


the last person on earth i could ever marry

by igotfeels



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 19th Century, M/M, Marriage Proposal, pride and prejudice au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 50,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igotfeels/pseuds/igotfeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Pride and Prejudice AU, where Harry is fed up with rich men and Mr Tomlinson is a very rich man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t even know… Basically I’ve always wanted a pride and prejudice AU, and since no one else did it, I guess I rose to the challenge myself. I hope it turned out somewhat close to “19th-century England-ish”. Also because [Elisabeth](http://images5.fanpop.com/image/photos/31600000/Elizabeth-Bennet-elizabeth-bennet-31632202-283-424.jpg) looks a lot like Harry. And that’s all the reason ever needed. 
> 
> Plus, things like gender and sexuality don’t matter in this AU because I created it and I make the rules.
> 
> You can write to me on my [Tumblr](http://djunglehaz.tumblr.com) and say hi! 
> 
> Hope you like! :) <3
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own One Direction, nor Pride and Prejudice. Everything in this is made up, and none of it is true.

The sky was gloomy grey, like the colour of a shiver down your spine. Like walking on stones with your bare feet late at night. It's the colour which created a hole in your stomach and made you wonder if you’d ever be warm again. 

In other words, it was an ordinary day in the middle of May. Depressing, boring and monotone. Harry was sitting in his ordinary spot by the window in the living room, looking out the window. When your favourite pastime activity was “analysing the colour of the sky”, it didn’t exactly help that you lived in England. It was doomed for disaster. He should really move to Spain. 

Which, if only. 

Harry put a finger against the cold, damp window and drew a sun. Close enough. 

Harry wished he was a poet so he could have written something beautiful about the storm outside; at least then he would have done something fairly useful with his time. Maybe about the sound; how it was melodic - peaceful and calming, yet it was disturbing, creating noise when it should be quiet. Or how the smell was emotionlessly cold, yet tenderly warm, creating a sense of familiarity and belonging he knew he’d never experience in Spain. 

Harry was broken out of his reverie when he heard his father’s characteristic shriek come rushing through their house, echoing in the walls. 

“Family! Quick! Emergency! Family meeting!” 

With a sigh, Harry removed himself from his spot and wondered what had happened this time. Was another one of his shirts ruined? Had their mother subconsciously insulted him again? Had one of their servants “stolen” something again (“stolen” meaning he’d lost it and didn’t want to take responsibility for it)? Was one of their awful cousin coming? Was several of their awful cousins coming? (Harry prayed this was not the case.)

Maybe father had realised his hair was starting to resemble the colour of the sky.

Full of wonder, Harry entered the large room where everyone were already gathered. ‘Everyone’ referring to his family; which, obviously in the grand scheme of things was not everyone, but at the same time, to Harry, it was. 

His father, Simon, was walking around the room aimlessly – the epitome of a nervous, distressed man; his hands pulling in his hair, muttering under his breath in agony.

Something must obviously be very wrong. Maybe their mother had insisted on buying an elephant for the lawn was unreasonable again. Harry knew how his father reacted when their mother refused him. 

Without giving it much thought, Harry immediately went to sit next to his favourite brother, Zayn, who sat silently and patiently for their father to voice the matter. When Harry sat down, he offered him a small smile. He was probably, just as Harry, preparing himself for an emotional meltdown, reason unknown.

“Oh, my poor nerves!” Simon cried out as he threw himself on a chair, and started sobbing into his palm. “Nobody knows how I suffer.” 

Harry turned to face his mother, Anne, hoping for an explanation for his father despair, but found her face was covered by a newspaper, unmoving and seemingly unbothered. In other words, another ordinary day in the middle of May. 

“Father,” Zayn’s gentle voice said, as he leaned forward, “please tell us what the matter is.”

Their father removed his hand from his face and cried out, “Ask you mother! She’s the one determined to make my life an insufferable hell!” 

Harry turned to his mother, who finally removed the newspaper and folded it together and put it on the table next to her. She removed her glasses as well and started rubbing her forehead. “Ah, you see children, it appears as if your father has made me out to be the villain, although all I have done this fine afternoon was sit in this spot reading my newspaper.” She turned to give Harry a pointing look. “A grave sin, indeed.”

Harry smirked. He’d always been his mother’s favourite. He pretended it bothered him more than it actually did 

His father, however, could not see even the slightest amusement. He cried out, “Oh, aren’t you hilarious! Should I laugh myself to death, I will have everyone know it was your fault.”

“I do not know how you’d do that, seeing as you are dead,” Anne remarked. “But I appreciate the compliment, nonetheless. I was not aiming for a joke, but if that was the outcome, then so be it.”

Simon shot him a deadly look. “You have no regards to my poor nerves.” 

“You mistake me my dear,” Anne said. “They have been my faithful companion these last twenty years.”

Simon only cried out, and started sobbing into his hand again. 

“Father, mother,” Zayn pleaded, ever the peacemaker, looking between the two of them, “please tell us what has happened.”

Anne opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by Simon exasperating, “Netherfield has been bought by a young, amiable bachelor, named Mr Payne, with a fortune of five thousand per year, but your mother,” he spat out the word as if it was poisonous, “refuses to make his acquaintance.” 

“Netherfield has been bought?” Niall, the youngest of the four brothers, said before quickly rising to his feet and running across the room to their mother, grabbing her hand. “Oh, mummy, please, please, you must make his acquaintance! Imagine the balls the might throw!”

Even Josh, who always followed Niall’s lead, said, “Yes, please mama.” 

Anne removed her hand from his. “Niall, sit down again.”

With a displeased groan, Niall went to his seat again with a sour expression on his face. 

“See!” Simon cried. “Your mother is unreasonable!”

Anne sighed. “Not unreasonable, my dear. I just don’t see what the arrival of a certain Mr Payne has to do with any of us.”

“Do you not think about the wellbeing of others? What about your sons?” 

“My sons?” Anne raised her eyebrows. “What about them?” 

“Surely you know he must marry one of them!” 

“Oh, is that so? This piece of information has been kept from me. Pray, how do you know?”

“Don’t act dumb! Naturally he must marry one of them seeing as he is unmarried and must be looking for a partner, and who could be more perfect than any of our four sons?” 

“Ah, yes, if he is looking for one of the silliest blokes in the county, he has come to the right place,” she said, giving a pointing look to Niall and Josh. “Although I must admit,” she said and turned to Harry, “that my dear Harry here, possesses a bit more intelligence than the rest of them.”

Harry smiled. Although he didn’t appreciate his mother making fun of his little brothers, he still cherished her recognition. 

“Ah, yes, Harry is agreeable,” Simon said dismissively and rose from his seat. “But look at Zayn,” he said awestruck and stroked Zayn’s cheek. “A beauty if you ever saw one. Gentle and delicate. Catches everyone’s eye wherever he goes.”

“Father, stop it,” Zayn mumbled, embarrassed, his cheeks turning red. Harry grabbed his hand and squeezed gently. 

“Not that it will ever matter, since your mother,” he spat out the word again, “refuses to see reason. Therefore, there shall be no ball and no wedding and we will all die hungry out on the street, praying to our gods to release us from our endless suffering! All because of your mother’s stubbornness.”

Although his father was clearly being overdramatic, Harry knew where this was all coming from. They weren’t nearly as wealthy as they used to be, and when their mother would die, all of their belongings would end up to a distant cousin on their mother’s side. A cousin, which they had never even met. It’s not a future anyone was really longing for.

A fact he was well reminded of on a weekly basis. Not usually this dramatically, but what was life without a little action every now and then?

“Calm down, my love,” Anne said, looking at Simon patiently, “summer is upon us. Shall you end up on the street, you can at least take comfort in it won’t be snowing.”

“You are impossible!” Simon cried out to a still unyielding Anne, whose facially expression remained calm and detached. He threw himself on a couch and started sobbing. “Why do bad things happen to good people? Why weren’t I blessed with a daughter who could have talked some sense into to her impossible mother? I wish I had never ended up in this marriage. I wish none of my sons get married. I wish I do end up on the street. I wish I had never been born!”

Harry raised an eyebrow. _Right._

“Well, my dear,” Anne said as she stood up, “life is a series of unfortunate events as we are all perfectly aware of. Personally, I wish you would have told me this before I called on Mr Payne and have him dine with me tomorrow.” 

Simon started shrieking and quickly rose from his seat and ran off to Anne. “Oh, Mrs Styles, must you tease me so!” He said before kissing her cheeks. 

“Yes, yes,” Anne said dismissively. “Now, if you’ll need me, I’ll be in my study.”

Harry watched as she walked out of the room, and his father turned around, his face struck with excitement and happiness. Niall and Josh rose as well, and started speaking in the mouths of each other. 

“Do you think they’ll throw a ball –“

“Do you think he has any relatives –“

“Do you think he is handsome –“

“Do you think –“

Harry tuned out his hysterical brothers and father, and turned to Zayn, who sat still and quietly, also observing them. Harry wondered what was going on inside his head.

“Looking at their joy,” Harry commented, “it is almost as if marriage is guaranteed to be upon us.”

Zayn withdrew his eyes from them, and let them land on Harry. He smiled gently, but his brown eyes were wistful, as if he knew what was coming. As if he could see the future. “So it would seem.”

“However,” Harry conceded, “if father’s prediction is anything to go by, we would have been dead out on the street, about five years ago, and I feel perfectly alive. Surely if I was a ghost, my brother’s yelling wouldn’t have hurt my ears the way they do now.” 

Zayn looked at him carefully, his mouth slightly tilted up. He was used to Harry’s dark and depressing humour by now. “So what you mean is that you don’t think marriage is upon us? You think our family is wrong to get their hopes up?” 

Harry thought about it for a second. He thought about hungry stomachs, broken dreams and grey skies. “No. I don’t think they’re wrong to get their hopes up. Anything that will get their restless minds even a second of peace is welcome for me. But if I think marriage lies in our near future?” Harry narrowed his eyes, before turning to Zayn, smirking. “I’d sooner think chaos is upon us.”

Obscenely rich men. Chaos in its truest form.

 

\---

 

When Harry was younger, he used to follow Zayn wherever he went. Zayn went into garden, good, then Harry would also go into the garden. Zayn read a book, good, then Harry would also read a book. Zayn liked this thing, good, then Harry would also like this thing. 

As the years progressed, the simplicity of adolescence slipped away, and Harry became his own person, with his own opinions and his own way of looking at life, which was unfortunately not even remotely close to Zayn’s. Where Zayn saw opportunities, Harry saw ways of twisting it into a depressing joke. Harry’s way was better at making easy conversation, but Zayn’s was better at making people fall in love with him, fully and without regret. Zayn was like a flower, the sort of flower you wanted to hide and keep for yourself, safe from all evil. 

Like a rose, without the thorns. Maybe Harry was the thorns. Maybe together they created the perfect flower. Maybe that was why they still stuck together despite their differences. Why they were still the most important people in each other’s lives. Why Harry would still follow Zayn anywhere, and he knew Zayn would do the same.

Not that Harry would ever say this out loud, mind you, he had his reputation to think of. 

Two nights after their mother had dined with Mr Payne, Harry and Zayn were in their bedroom. There would be an assembly tomorrow; an assembly which Mr Payne would attend, and since their mother had already met him – an introduction would be made. 

Although Harry tried to remain his nonchalant, _don’t really care, what does this have to do with me, last year’s ants invasion was more exciting than this_ \- attitude, he couldn’t deny he was a little bit excited. It was hard not to whenever something out of the ordinary “Should I read a new book, should I take a walk in the garden or should I read a new book?” happened. If that new thing happened be a new gentleman coming to the neighbourhood, then so be it. Harry would have preferred an alien invasion, but he wasn’t too picky. 

Zayn was sitting at the edge of his bed, looking out the window. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible, but Harry always heard when Zayn spoke. “What do you think Mr Payne will be like?” 

“Hm.” Harry threw himself down on his own bed, his hands behind his head. “Judging from common characteristics of normal men of wealth, I would assume him to be nice enough; although seeing as he is rich he probably thinks he is nicer than he actually is. He probably has an excessively nice carriage to prove his supremacy, and he views us less fortunate as objects to his liking that he can treat however he wishes.”

“Harry!” Zayn hissed and turned around. The moonlight shined on his face, making his eyes more apparent than usually. He truly was remarkably pretty. “That’s rude.”

“How is that rude? He is not here to hear it, is he?” 

Zayn gave him a stern look. “It is not nice to judge people before you have even met them and can make a fair judgement.”

“Fine,” Harry relented. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Although you wouldn’t think it would be nice of me to judge him even after I could have made a fair judgement.”

“Perhaps not.”

Harry smiled. “I wish I was as good-natured as you Zayn.”

Zayn didn’t reply. He looked out of the window into the black night, and his eyes were troubled. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Harry whispered. 

Continuing to look away, Zayn replied, “Yes, I just –“ He sighed and looked at Harry. “It is just a very unfortunate situation we have found ourselves in. As the oldest, I know father will want me to go make a good impression on Mr Payne tomorrow, but what if he doesn’t like me? What if I don’t like him? This probably sounds stupid, but I do wish I could get married out of love, and not for financial reasons.”

Zayn’s eyebrows were still pulled together, and he looked distraught. Harry’s heart swelled up a little bit. “That’s not silly at all, Zayn.”

A small smile grew on Zayn’s face, as if he’d realised something. “Harry,” he said, “do you also wish you could get married out of love?” 

Harry blinked. “Yes, of course I do. Among other things.”

“What do you mean, ‘other things’?” 

“Well,” Harry said and laid down on the bed again, “I’m not picky, but love would be a good ingredient. Also if the person was wealthy would be a plus. And handsome. Good in bed, naturally. Would have to respect me. Have a good sense of humour. Intelligent, but not obnoxious. Sensible, but not boring. Musical, but not too much as to outshine me. Funny, but not more than me. Pretty much not better than me at anything, but still having the appearance of it, so I wouldn’t think I’ve settled. We’d both know the truth, though, naturally.”

Zayn smiled. “And you will find one person with all those qualities?” 

Harry was silent for a minute. He could use as many fancy words as he wanted, but all he really wanted was for someone to look at him like his imperfections were his greatest possessions, someone who would see all of what he was and still loved him. Someone who would stop his worrying. 

“Well, no. Of course not. Such a person does not exist. And thus I shall remain unmarried for all eternity.” Harry smirked at Zayn. “Therefore my future happiness depends on you to marry Mr Payne so you can provide for me financially. So I need you to go to sleep right now, so you are fully rested tomorrow.” 

Zayn rolled his eyes at Harry but did as he was told, as he always did, and pulled the cover over him. “You shouldn’t say too much, Harry. Maybe Mr Payne has a cousin who will catch your eye, and then you will have to watch your tongue.”

Harry closed his eyes and burrowed his head into the pillow. Maybe he would have believed that if it was actually believable. “Perhaps.”

 

\--

 

The Styles family showed up around 7 p.m. Simon was restless as always, but also very excited. 

“Oh, I cannot wait to meet Mr Payne!” He walked up to his wife. “Can you not tell us one thing about him?” 

“That would ruin the surprise,” his wife told him as they walked into the assembly. “And we all know how much you love surprises.”

“I hate surprises,” Simon muttered bitterly but followed his wife faithfully.

It was an assembly which the Styles family had attended many times. It was relatively small, giving it a friendly, more personal feeling. Most people from the Cheshire area were there – Harry could even spot his good, old friend Greg James talking to his sister in a faraway corner. Harry would have to make a conversation with them later. Now, however, he continued searching through the room for an unfamiliar face but found none. It appeared as if Mr Payne had not arrived yet. 

“Can you see Mr Payne?” Harry asked Zayn. 

“How could I? I have no idea what he looks like,” Zayn answered before he turned to Harry smirking. “Plus, I thought you did not care about Mr Payne.”

“I don’t!” Harry quickly denied. “Just figured you’d be interested since you’re going to marry him and all.”

“Harry!” Zayn hissed. “Don’t say that. We don’t even know what he looks like yet.”

Harry shrugged. “With five thousand a year, one wouldn’t think it matters much what he looks like.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Harry grinned, and continued his search. However, he was obviously not here. Oh, well. The music was loud, people were chatting cheerily and Harry was just on his way to make conversation with Greg when he heard his father whisper, “Look! There he is!”

Harry’s attention was immediately peaked. He stopped and turned his head to where his father was looking. Everything happened in slow motion after that. 

The music stopped and people caught on to that something was happening. The chattering disappeared and was replaced with whispers and quick footsteps; clearing the way for the newcomers. 

At the entrance stood no other than who would have to be Mr Payne. His hair was cut short, his shoulders were broad and his clothing was of the best sort, suiting his body type nicely. His eyes were big and deep brown, a bit puppy-ish. Also, he was smiling with his entire face – as if he just couldn’t possibly be any more happy to be where he was.

Harry, however, felt an irrational disappointed feeling in his gut. It’s not as if Mr Payne was in any way bad looking, he had in fact very nice features, but that was practically it. He looked a bit too… happy? Sure, he was perfectly agreeable, but he was also in no way striking. Not quite the adventure Harry had been hoping for. Not the storm in the desert. Not fire in the rain. Not the last breath after taking a jump off a cliff. Just a man with kind eyes. 

“What a handsome man,” Harry heard his father say, admiration obvious in his voice. 

“Who’s that behind him?” Zayn asked, and that was the first time Harry noticed that Mr Payne was in fact not alone, but there were two people behind him as well. 

The first one to catch his eye was a woman. She wore one of the prettiest dressed Harry had ever laid his eyes on, golden and glittery, and she had long brown hair. Her eyes had the same brown colour as Mr Payne, however lacking the genuine streak. She was very attractive.

“That,” a woman named Mrs Scherzinger, who was acquainted with the Styles family, said, “is Miss Eleanor Payne. Mr Payne’s sister.”

Harry looked at her thoroughly and could see some resemblance. She was also smiling, however not in the same honest way her brother was, but more carefully, with a hesitant, condescending edge to it. By the look of it, she had attended many more fancy assemblies than this one and didn’t do her best at hiding her displeasure, despite her small smile. 

“And who is the man?” Zayn required. 

“That,” Mrs Scherzinger said, “is Mr Payne’s closest friend, Mr Tomlinson.”

Harry’s eyes moved away from the woman, to the man standing next to her, and Harry’s breathing got stuck in his throat. 

Unlike Miss and Mr Payne, Mr Tomlinson was not even bothering to smile at all. His facial expression was grave and severe, but that is not what made Harry lose his breath. His face was in fact, strikingly, almost absurdly so, beautiful. He had high, predominant cheekbones, accompanied with a slight tan, which was really unfair because it wasn’t even summer yet and everyone else in the room was appropriately pale. The tan also made his eyes shine, blue like the ocean, but cold as ice, and stand out on his glowing face. Eyes like an ordinary Wednesday afternoon in the middle of May. His hair was longer than Mr Payne’s, and lighter than Miss Payne’s, and looked soft in contrast to his otherwise hard face. 

Admittedly, he was shorter than Mr Payne, but the way he stood- the way he carried himself, and the way he looked out over the room as if he already owned everything and everyone in it, made him appear taller and even more noteworthy than everyone else in the assembly combined. 

Harry could not stop staring. 

“Rumour has it he owns a family estate in Doncaster, one of the finest in England,” Mrs Scherzinger continued, “ _and_ he has a fortune of ten thousand a year.” 

Simon gasped. “Indeed, he is also very handsome.”

Harry continued staring. Handsome did not even begin to cover it. 

The music started playing again, the high violin cutting wounds in Harry’s ears and they were broken out of their private show. The three newcomers started pacing about the room, getting to know the people. 

“Quick!” Simon said and started moving his right hand in a gesture for his sons to follow. “We must have your mother introduce us.”

His four sons followed obediently. 

It didn’t take long before they found themselves in the presence of Mr Payne, still smiling like the sun in Spain, next to their mother. 

“Mr Payne, allow me to introduce my family,” she said. “This is my husband, Simon,” he bowed, “and this is Zayn, he is my oldest,” he did the same gesture, “as this is Harry, Niall and Josh.” 

“It is a great pleasure to finally meet you!” Mr Payne said, beaming as always, sounding nothing but genuine. “I’ve heard so much about you!”

“The pleasure is all ours, Mr Payne,” Simon said. Harry watched as his mother sneaked away now that the introduction had been made and her part had been fulfilled. Harry wished he could’ve walked away as well, without coming across as incredibly rude. “We’ve heard so much about you as well.”

“Only good things I hope,” Mr Payne replied. 

_Oh, well if you look past that one time we heard that you presumably murdered someone and buried their body._

No, of course we’ve only heard good things!

And this is why Harry often choose to stay quiet during conversations. Sometimes his wit was charming, sometimes it was uncalled for. 

“Naturally only good things.” Simon smiled kindly, and his eyes caught something behind Mr Payne. His eyes lit up even more. “Oh, look! There is your friend. Would you do the honour of introducing us?” 

Mr Payne turned around to see who he was referring to. “Certainly. Louis, come over here!”

Harry’s heartbeat quickening. Mr Tomlinson, or Louis apparently, came their way, looking equally as tedious and intimidating as he had only a minute ago. 

And still equally as breathtakingly handsome.

Not that Harry actually stopped breathing or anything, he was very firm on the point to keep his lungs filled with oxygen. 

But if one were to lose your breath over someone, Mr Tomlinson would be the man.

Okay, so Harry had a thing for older, rich, handsome men. Sue him. 

Oh wait, no, that wouldn’t work since he had no money. Which leads him onto marriage, which leads him onto socialising, which leads him on to a certain amiable, rich bachelor within reaching distance.

Mr Tomlinson stopped in front of them and looked at Mr Payne questioning. 

“Louis, may I introduce you to the Styles family,” Mr Payne said, and Harry wondered if he would ever stop smiling. Harry hoped not. Mr Payne began the introduction with their father. “This is Simon, Zayn, Harry, Niall and Josh. And this is my oldest and most trusted friend, Mr Tomlinson.”

Mr Tomlinson bowed. “Pleasure.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all ours, Mr Tomlinson. Indeed it is such a pleasure to be acquainted with you,” Simon rambled on, and for not the first time in Harry’s life, he wanted nothing more than for him to shut up. And walk away. And move to the other side of the planet. And take the rest of his brothers with him. And Mr Payne, too, for that matter. Leave Harry alone in other words. “I think I speak for the entire Holmes Chapel when I say we are so happy you are here today joining us.”

Mr Tomlinson didn’t answer, but only gave a short nod in response, his facial expression as blank as always. A man of few words, eh? Harry was certain he could find other uses for his mouth then.

“Indeed it is we who are thankful to be here, and for the warm welcome,” Mr Payne said. “You have a lovely village.”

“Thank you, I very much agree," Simon said. "Not to brag but our neighbours have just started their own farm with exotic animals, such as cows, and horses. I’m trying to get my wife to agree that we should get an elephant to our garden. Personally, I think that would make a good addition to our household.”

Harry seriously wished he would shut up about that elephant sometime soon. It. Would. Never. Work. Simon seriously needed to read a geography book. Or an ecology book. 

Mr Tomlinson raised an eyebrow. “An elephant? As in the animal with its origin in climates with about 40 degrees? In your backyard? Here? In England?”

Harry could tell the distaste on Mr Tomlinson’s face and was just about to cut in, telling him that, No, of course their father was only joking! Is he no delightful?, when Mr Payne beat him to it.

“Well, I think that sounds marvellous! There is nothing you cannot accomplish with simply willpower!”

Harry would argue otherwise. 

Mr Tomlinson pressed his lips together, and looked out into the distance. “Interesting.”

And that would not do. Harry needed his attention on him, not at the air surrounding them. He also needed him not hating his family. That would come later once they were married and he had no choice but to tolerate them.

And with his ten thousand a year, they could just move to the other side of the country and would never have to hear about elephants in England ever again. 

Harry quickly tried to think of something to say, something which would lead them off this subject and catch Mr Tomlinson’s interest. And something he, himself, had something to actually say something about and could engage in a conversation about. 

Music!

“I love this song,” Harry said without even knowing which song was playing. He stopped for a moment to listen, and okay, good – this song was alright. “The beat is rather refreshing. And the piano wonderful.”

Harry looked at Mr Tomlinson and was delighted and disappointed at the same time. Because one, he was finally looking at Harry. But two, he did not say anything back. 

“I love this song as well. It is a good song to dance to,” Mr Payne said, before turning to Zayn and offering his hand. “If you would do me the great honour.”

Zayn’s cheeks went red as he accepted his hand. “Certainly.”

The two of them walked off onto the dance floor and well … The logical thing would be for Mr Tomlinson to follow his friend out there as well. And for that, he would need a partner. And, well, the logical thing would be to ask someone in front of him. And seeing as Harry was the oldest and the most charming one, the logical thing to do would be to dance with him. Sorry, Harry didn’t make the rules. 

Simon seemed to share these thoughts as well, as he looked at Mr Tomlinson expectantly. “Wouldn’t you like a dance as well, Mr Tomlinson?” 

Mr Tomlinson looked between Harry and Simon, and Harry’s heart fluttered. Finally. Please. That is before Mr Tomlinson opened his mouth shortly to say, “I don’t dance.” And walking away abruptly, not sparing Harry a second glance. 

Harry stood frozen in his spot, rejection burning in his veins. Not a “sorry,” “excuse me” or “I need to leave”, just an “I don’t dance”. Everyone could dance if they wanted to.

Simon snorted. “What a proud and rude man.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. Proud and rude, eh? Exactly the type of man that Harry despised. “Quite.”

Simon turned to look at him. “We don’t need to associate with people like him. If he fancies himself above a dance, and this assembly, then so be it. We don’t need him.”

Following Mr Tomlinson’s retrieving back with his eyes, Harry muttered, “Indeed, we do not.”

True to his words, Harry did not spend his time moping over Mr Tomlinson. Why would he? Mr Tomlinson was nothing to him, anyway. Believe it or not, Harry actually had better ways to spend his energy and time, than being upset over someone who refused to even smile, or engage in a simple conversation. 

Harry ended up dancing with Miss Horan and Mr Malik anyway, so it was fine. Never did he see Mr Tomlinson dance, though. Not that Harry was paying attention or anything, but. Just seemed like the sort of thing you’d notice. 

It wasn’t until some hour later that Harry found himself sitting down, talking to Greg James, when he yet again spotted Mr Tomlinson, this time talking to Mr Payne. It should probably be noted that Mr Payne had spent the entire evening dancing with Zayn. That made Harry happy. 

“Hey, look,” Greg said. “Isn’t that Mr Payne and Mr Tomlinson?”

Harry looked away from the two gentlemen, and concluded that Mr Tomlinson really wasn’t as striking the second time you looked at him. Not that Harry had really looked at him the second time. 

“It is,” Harry confirmed. 

“I noticed that Mr Payne has been dancing with Zayn a lot.” Greg smirked. “Your father must be pleased.”

“I’m assuming he is,” Harry agreed. 

“What are they like?” Greg asked, smiling. 

“Well,” Harry said and looked at them, “Mr Payne is very happy, he, um, smiles a lot. And well, Mr Tomlinson is the exact opposite. I don’t think he knows what a smile is.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Oh, yes,” Harry said and rolled his eyes. “Also, he doesn’t dance.”

Greg raised his eyebrows. “He sounds like a fun guy.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t really know from our one minute interaction, but, yeah, it doesn’t seem like it.”

Greg looked at the two men with narrowed eyes. “I must say though that your interpretation of Mr Payne is inaccurate. He isn’t smiling right now. If anything, he looks a bit irritated.”

That caught Harry’s attention. He turned to face Mr Payne and Mr Tomlinson and it did actually look as if they were having some kind or argument. 

It was a shame curiosity had always been one of Harry’s faults. 

“Wait here,” he said as he stood up and left Greg alone, walking closer to Mr Payne and Mr Tomlinson. He stopped when he was within hearing distance, but not close enough for it to be suspicious. 

“- you can’t just stand here all night,” Mr Payne said, and he did actually sound rather infuriated. “I must have you dancing.”

“Sure I can,” Mr Tomlinson countered. “I can and I will.”

Mr Payne groaned. “I wouldn’t be as tedious as you are for a kingdom.”

“Look,” Mr Tomlinson said, “I would dance if there was anyone tolerable here to dance with. However, your sister has been preoccupied since we got here, so I don’t know what you expect me to do. It’s like a gathering of savages.”

Mr Payne gasped. “How can you say such things? I have never met as many agreeable people before in my life.”

Mr Tomlinson snorted. “You have been dancing with the only agreeable person in the room tonight.”

“Zayn?” Mr Payne said. “Oh, yes, he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.”

Harry smiled on his brother’s behalf. 

“But what about his brother?” Mr Payne asked, and Harry froze. “What was he called? Harry? Also very agreeable.”

Harry waited in anticipation for Mr Tomlinson’s answer. 

“He was tolerable, I suppose,” Mr Tomlinson said and Harry’s pretended his heart didn’t sunk. He didn’t care. “But not handsome enough to tempt me.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. _Not handsome enough to tempt me?_

Excuse me? 

“Now go back to your partner and stop wasting your time on me,” Mr Tomlinson said, which obviously was the end of the discussion since Mr Payne walked away, leaving him alone. 

Harry, however, stood in his spot, and he saw red. 

_Not handsome enough to tempt me?_

_A gathering of savages?_

What a proud, rude, arrogant, disrespectful and self-indulgent thing to say! 

Exasperated, Harry turned around and walked back to Greg. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Greg asked, noticing his sour expression. 

“It turns out that Mr Tomlinson does in fact dance, but only with people he deems worthy,” Harry said. “For example not me, because apparently I wasn’t handsome enough to tempt him?” 

Greg gasped. “He said that?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, dear Harry,” Greg said and reached for his hand, “men of wealth are like that. Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t!” Harry quickly argued. “He means nothing to me, so why should I care?” 

Greg smiled. “That’s the spirit. Now, we should enjoy the rest of the evening and not let this ruin our night.”

Harry looked out over the room. It really was a splendid assembly. People were having fun and enjoying themselves, and if some people were to narrow minded and proud to see that, then, well that was their problem. 

Harry grinned at Greg. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

 

\--

 

When it was nightfall, Harry and Zayn laid in their beds, their bodies tired after the long night but their minds were still wide awake, refusing to tune down. 

“Well, that certainly was a remarkable night,” Harry said. 

“It was,” Zayn said. He hadn’t stopped smiling since they had gotten home. But when he turned to Harry, the smile vanished slightly. “Can’t believe what Mr Tomlinson said, though. About you.”

Harry shrugged. “That’s life, I guess. I don’t mind too much.” 

“I still can’t believe it,” Zayn insisted. 

“That’s because you refuse to think anything bad about anyone, ever.”

“I just don’t understand. Who wouldn’t love you?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. Zayn really was taking this too personally. “Mr Tomlinson, apparently. Look, if he wants to be a dull, proud man refusing to dance, then that’s fine by me. I’m genuinely fine. Trust me.”

Zayn was silent for a moment before relenting, “Alright. Let’s go to sleep then.”

“Good night, Zayn.”

“Good night, Harry.”

The walls were thin, so Harry pulled his cover closer to his body to stop from shivering. He closed his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t have nightmares. 

If obscenely rich men were the truest form of chaos; then cheekbones were knives, tanned skin was fire, blue eyes were endless ice, brown hair was abandoned trees in deep forests, and Louis Tomlinson was hell personified. 

It was a shame recklessness had always been one of Harry’s faults. It was a good thing he knew when to stay away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you’re one of the angels reading this from the start then, 1. hi! i love you. 2. i’ll try not to suck too much and will try to update as frequently as possible. chapter two will be up soon.


	2. Chapter 2

The Styles family didn’t hear from Mr Payne until a week later. Their father had not shut up about their previous encounter and their mother had not stopped rolling her eyes, having to hear the story over and over again. (“And then the song ended, and guess what Mr Payne did?” “What did he do?” “He asked to dance with Zayn! Again!” “You don’t say.”) Truthfully, even Harry was beginning to tire of hearing the story of how Mr Payne danced with Zayn the entire night. Even Zayn was beginning to get tired of hearing it – and if Zayn got tired of it, then it was really bad. 

So it was truly a good thing when one of their servant received a letter inviting them to yet another ball. 

Zayn grabbed Harry’s arm. When Harry turned around, he was looking at him with big eyes. 

“Do you think Mr Payne will be there?” 

“Well, one would hope he hasn’t abandoned our community quite yet,” Harry answered. “Especially not after how happy he looked all night, and how extraordinarily pleased he was with the company. So, presumably, yes.”

Zayn released his arm, and let out a sigh. “Oh, I do hope I won’t disappoint him. He was such a lovely man.”

Harry smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Zayn. If anything, worry about him disappointing you.”

“Well –“

“Yeah, you’re right, “ Harry cut him off. “You like everyone. But, really, I can’t think of anyone more worthy of love than you. It would be a crime to humanity if you spend your time worrying whether or not it was true.”

“So do you, Harry.” Zayn’s eyes went gentle.

Harry smirked. “Yes, well, you’re the one with the sharp cheekbones and the piercing eyes, so I think you’re the more likely receiver of it. I’m unfortunately not handsome enough to tempt good men.”

In an instant, Zayn’s expression turned cold. Or not exactly cold, more puzzled; as if he was still trying to make sense out of the matter. “I still can’t believe he said that.”

Harry barked a laughter. “Oh, trust me, Zayn, I am quite over it.” He really was. A week later, and he couldn’t even remember why he had been upset in the first place. “I say we go to the ball tonight, and you show Mr Payne your delicate nature, and I will dance with as many men and women as possible to prove how much I do not care about another certain gentleman.”

 

\--

 

The ball was beautiful. It was larger than the previous one, a week before. 

Niall and Josh were enjoying themselves out on the dance floor, a different partner to every song. Which, of course. Harry smiled fondly at them, hoping they wouldn’t embarrass themselves too much this night. 

Harry’s eyes swept over the floor until they found Zayn and Mr Payne dancing. Which, of course. By the look on Mr Payne’s face, he seemed to be enjoying himself quite much. But then again, it was hard to tell since he always seemed to be enjoying himself a lot. But Zayn was even harder to read. Naturally, he was also enjoying himself, Harry knew that much. He could always tell what Zayn was feeling. However, it wasn’t as obvious on his face. He was gentler, not always expressing himself as much. But he was just shy. If Mr Payne was only half the man people said he was, he’d understand as much. 

Harry had to physically stop himself from looking for Mr Tomlinson. He’d seen him earlier, talking to no other than Miss Payne. Which, of course. It’s not like balls are perfect opportunities to meet new people or anything. But Harry presumed that if you were too stuck up in your own head, then socialising maybe wasn’t the most fun thing to do.

Harry was broken out of his thoughts by his friend Greg James, coming his way. 

“Hi, Greg.”

“Hello, Harry,” Greg greeted him. “How are you today?” 

“Very well, thank you,” Harry said. Greg really was the perfect friend. Polite, honest, amusing – just the type of qualities Harry looked for in a partner or a friend. “We’ve had lovely whether this week. I went into town yesterday. Did you know that the officers are coming to town soon?”

Greg’s eyebrows shot up. “That I did not know.”

Harry snorted. “Lucky you. My brothers won’t shut up about it.”

“Well, I’m assuming my sister will be quite thrilled also, when she finds out.”

“Trust me, Greg, keep it from her as long as possible. There are only so many times you can hear the word officer, without thinking about possible weapons they possess that you might kill yourself with.”

“Woah!” Greg exclaimed. “Dramatic, are we?” 

Harry shrugged. “It just feels so good to be out of the house. When my father is not telling the story of how Mr Payne and Zayn so romantically, and endearingly danced all night, he’s telling the story of how he fell in love with an officer when he was thirteen. The only things I have learned from these stories are that, one; officers are handsome. And two; do officers actually do anything besides walking around, looking handsome? Because it seems like that, according to my father and brothers.”

Greg laughed. “I’m certain that there are other things they do as well.”

“Like what?” Harry asked. “Chop wood to show off their impressive arm muscles? Rub themselves in oil?” 

“Well,” Greg said, “they would have to do something to get those impressive arm muscles in the first place.”

Harry considered this. “Hm.”

“Plus,” Greg said, “have your brothers even met any? Where are they getting all their knowledge?”

“From their imagination, I presume,” Harry answered. “I think that applies to my father, too. I’m starting to think he made up the entire story.”

“Probably,” Greg agreed. “But if you’re interested in what they do, you could ask Mrs Lovato over there. I believe her husband is one.”

Harry turned around and spotted her across the room. “Can’t hurt.”

After a quick good bye, Harry made his way through the crowd to Mrs Lovato. It was only when he heard someone call, “Harry!” that he stopped and turned around. 

In front of him was Mr James, Greg’s father, an old friend to the family. Also a man who did not really possess the same intelligence and wit as his son. He was, however, uncommonly kind. The most important characteristic a person can have, in Harry’s opinion. 

Behind him was, typically, Mr Tomlinson talking to Miss Payne. Harry sighed. But he assumed he could endure standing within reaching distance of him. 

“Hello, Mr James,” Harry said. At the end of the day, he was nothing but polite. 

“Hello, Harry!” Mr James said, merry as always. “It’s good to see you. Are you enjoying the evening?”

“Indeed, I am,” Harry confirmed. 

“I noticed you haven’t been dancing in a while, and that won’t do.” Without any warning, Mr James turned around, and Harry’s blood ran cold, anticipating his next move. “Mr Tomlinson!”

Please, no. 

Mr Tomlinson turned around, raising his eyebrows questioning. Miss Payne also gave them a curious look. 

“I noticed you haven’t been dancing all evening,” Mr James said, with a look as if this was some insightful discovery, that he had so masterly noticed. 

Harry saw Miss Payne snorting and rolling her eyes at him. Harry cringed just watching the scene unfolding. 

Mr Tomlinson gave Mr James a long look, waiting for the punch line. “Yes?”

“And that won’t do, not when there are so many wonderful singles present!” Mr James turned to Harry, and, no, no, no, please, no, anything but – “So I offer you now young and delightful Harry as a partner.”

Harry saw Mr Tomlinson turning to look at him, and actually properly look, not just glance at him like he had last time. 

However, Harry would not suffer this embarrassment and ridicule. He would not. 

Before Mr Tomlinson had the opportunity to say something himself, Harry put a hand on Mr James' arm, and quickly said, “Mr Tomlinson does not dance. He finds conversations more indulging and entertaining. I think we better respect that.”

“Oh, but certainly not!” Mr James argued. “Not when he is faced with such beauty!”

Harry was just about to argue against the case again when Mr Tomlinson bowed and said, “If Mr Styles would do me the honour.”

Mr James started clapping his hands in excitement, and Harry’s heart sped up. 

This was indeed an interesting turn of events. Not that it actually mattered, Harry could still not accept. He refused to be some sort of pity dance. 

And he’d promised himself last week, that he would never, ever dance with Mr Tomlinson. 

Harry cleared his throat. “Please do not think that I walked this way looking for a dance partner. Mr Tomlinson is all politeness, but I must decline. I’m afraid I have other matters to attend to. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Harry bowed before walking away, not wanting to see Mr James’ confused expression, or Mr Tomlinson’s, whatever he was feeling right now. Probably gratitude since he was just spared one dance. 

Harry ended up not talking to Mrs Lovato, but went outside to have a breath of air. The sky was clear and you could see the stars. 

It wasn’t until later that Harry saw Mr Tomlinson again, dancing with Miss Payne. They both looked as if they were having an equally bad time. They really did make a perfect couple. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if they were soon to be engaged. 

When the ball ended, and the family went home, their father would again not shut up about how Mr Payne had danced with Zayn all night; how marvellous, how romantic, and how perfect. Harry tuned it out the best he could, and focused on the stars above them. 

 

\--

 

The next day was a sunny one. When Harry stepped out of the house, he had to blink his eyes to adjust them. He took one deep, breath, letting the cool, morning air fill his lungs. He was sitting down on the tree porch, squinting his eyes as he looked out over the small garden when he heard the front door open abruptly. 

“Harry!” Niall exclaimed, rushing out through the door. Josh came running after him, just steps behind. “We’re going into town!”

Harry raised his eyebrows, remaining seated. “Are we now?” 

“Yes, we are!” Niall rushed to tell him, the epitome of young and excited. “Oh, I cannot wait to get out of the house! Do you think there will be any officers present?” 

Harry stood up. “One can only hope.”

Zayn exited the door as well – calm and peacefully whereas Niall and Josh were anything but. 

“Quick!” Josh said, and started hurrying them along. “We don’t want to miss them!”

Harry chuckled. It was still early, and no one even knew if there would be any officers in town. But he didn’t want to be the one drowning his brother’s enthusiasm. 

“We better hurry, then,” Harry agreed. 

Zayn took Harry’s arm in his, and the four brothers walked cheerfully into town, Niall and Josh leading the way. 

The sun felt nice on Harry’s skin, so he turned his head up to the sky and soaked in it. He had a good feeling about this day, and he wouldn’t let anyone ruin it. 

When they arrived, it was relatively crowded. Since they didn’t really have any errand, they ended up walking around for a while, just window shopping. 

That is, until Niall exclaimed excitedly, “Look!”

When he had turned his head around, Harry spotted a group of men and women in uniforms. 

“But how will we get their attention?” Josh groaned, sounding actually distressed as if this was the most important moment of his life. Harry hoped for his sake it wasn’t. 

“Can’t you just go up and talk to them?” Harry asked.

Josh gasped. “Are you crazy? No, we can’t just do that.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, then I don’t know.”

“Good thing I do!” Niall smirked. “You see, you just drop your handkerchief and wait for someone to pick it up and give it back to you.”

The three boys watched as Niall dropped it and watched it fly away in the wind. It looked beautiful, like a choreographed routine, every move intentional. Unfortunately, it remained unnoticed it as it flew away, only to be buried in the dirty ground.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Zayn commented, watching it whirl around pathetically. 

Niall frowned and turned away. “My life sucks.” 

Josh quickly walked up to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright.”

Harry and Zayn shared a look saying, “What are you going to do?” They started walking again when – 

“Excuse me?” 

The four boys turned around. In front of them stood a tall, handsome man; must be somewhere in his mid-twenties. His hair was brown and he had a smirk pasted on his face. 

He winked at Niall, and offered him back his handkerchief. “I believe this is yours.”

Niall, appearing stunned by his sudden appearance, stuttered and took it in his hands. “Thank you.”

Two other men went to join the unknown man. They were all dressed in officer’s clothing. 

“What do we have here?” One of them said. 

“Please allow me to introduce myself,” the unknown handkerchief bearer said, looking at Harry and his brothers, “my name is Nicholas Grimshaw, but please, call me Nick.”

The four brothers introduced themselves. It didn’t take long before Niall and Josh found themselves in a very deep, fervent discussion with the two officers.

“What brings you to Cheshire?” Harry asked, looking at Nick. There was something in his appearance, the way he introduced himself, and spoke, that appealed to him. A sort of easiness and modesty, that Harry appreciated.

“Duty, I’m afraid,” he replied. “I do wish it was for merrier causes. Like a ball ceremony or something in the equal manner.”

Harry grinned. “No such luck exists.”

“Indeed it does not,” Nick agreed. “However, I am glad we ended up here for a while. The country deeply appeals to me.”

“Ah, yes, me too. Much calmer than in the city, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Oh, definitely. We were in London a few months ago, but it was so crowded. Your neighbourhood is much more pleasant.”

Harry smiled, pleased by his answer. “May I ask you something while you’re here?”

“Of course.”

“What is it that you officers do, exactly? Because it has come to my understanding that the only thing you do is walk around, showing off your muscles.”

Nick laughed. “Well, that is a common prejudice. And,” he gave Harry a leering smile, and his voice got deeper, “that is exactly what we do.”

Nick started laughing again and Harry joined him. “Sounds like the perfect job.”

“Well, I can’t complain.”

“How long are you staying for?” 

“We do not know yet,” Nick said, looking at his two friends. “For as long as we are needed, I suppose. The world always needs to see muscles.”

“For at least one month,” one of them added. 

“Oh!” Niall exclaimed. “There is a ball this Friday, will you be there?”

“Yes, please!” Josh pleaded. “Please, come! And bring your friends as well!” 

The three officers shared a look. That look when you raised your eyebrows, and nodded slowly, considering. It was obvious they wanted to come. 

“We’ll see what we can do,” one of them replied, grinning. He winked at Niall and Josh, who started shrieking excitedly. 

Harry was looking at them, laughing, when Zayn grabbed his arm and whispered, “Look!”

Harry turned his head, and saw no one other than Mr Payne and Mr Tomlinson riding their way. Typical. Mr Payne he could handle, he was after all perfectly amiable and seemed to make Zayn happy, but Mr Tomlinson… Harry really didn’t want him coming here and destroying his good day. But maybe they wouldn’t even notice them.

But of course, since fate hated Harry, and no such luck existed, Mr Payne immediately stopped when he saw Zayn and his entire face lit up. As per usual. He exclaimed, “Zayn!”

Of course, it was also not good that Zayn also started smiling. “Hi.”

Mr Payne and Mr Tomlinson rode towards them.

Mr Payne had just gotten off his horse, and Harry was preparing himself mentally for an awkward, uncomfortable conversation with Mr Tomlinson, when something odd happened. Nick turned around and froze in his spot. Mr Tomlinson and he made eye contact, and it was as if the world stopped for just a second. Harry wouldn’t think it was possible, but Mr Tomlinson got even tenser, and even Nick stood absolutely still. 

Harry stared at them curiously until Nick finally cleared his throat and bowed slightly, saying, “Mr Tomlinson.” His voice sounded distant and unstable, as if he was nervous.

Eager to watch his reaction, Harry studied Mr Tomlinson’s face, but he remained stoic. When he finally moved it was to give his horse a small kick, and he rode away. 

He rode away, not saying anything, leaving Nick in his spot with his words hanging lost in the air. 

Harry was in shock. He could absolutely not believe the manners of that man. 

Mr Payne seemed to have witnessed this exchange as well, as he cleared his throat awkwardly and moved forward. “Well. How do you do today?” 

Harry was still too upset to answer, so Zayn took this one. “We are very well.”

“Splendid!” Mr Payne beamed. “And what brings you to town today?” 

Mr Payne and Zayn carried on with their conversation, but Harry was still too stunned to contribute with anything. That seemed to apply to Nick as well, for he also stayed quiet throughout the rest of the conversation. 

It wasn’t until later, when Mr Payne had excused himself, and Harry and Nick had decided to take a walk of their own, that Harry addressed the issue. 

They were sitting under a tree, looking out over a small lake in front of them. It was small and calm, and Harry remembered bathing in it when he was a child. His mother had gotten upset, claiming he’d catch a cold. Harry hadn’t cared. 

It was midday now, and the sun shone brighter than even before. 

“So, what happened back there?” Harry asked. He hoped Nick wouldn’t mind him asking, he was just genuinely curious. 

Nick smiled, and looked out at the lake absently, as if he also had childhood memories here. “Oh, you mean my not so friendly encounter with Mr Tomlinson earlier?” 

“Yes.” 

Nick took a deep breath, like if he was trying to gain strength. “Yes, I am sorry to say me and Mr Tomlinson aren’t on the best of terms.”

Then it was as Harry had expected. “I see. Please forgive me, I do not mean to pry, but would you like to tell me why that is?” 

Frowning, Nick turned to look at him. His expression was dejected. “I don’t mind you asking at all. I just don’t want to offend you, in case you and Mr Tomlinson are already acquainted. I could tell your brother and Mr Payne got along very well.”

“Oh, that is something you do not need to worry about!” Harry quickly assured him. “Mr Tomlinson and I are not on good terms at all. In fact, I do not care for him in the slightest, and I can assure you that it is mutual.”

“Right. Just, I wouldn’t want your opinion of him to change for the worse because of me.”

Harry laughed, but it was hollow. “Again, that is not something you need to worry about. I already think he’s rude, arrogant and self-obsessed. I do not see how it could get any worse than that.”

Nick snorted and turned his gaze away. His voice was quiet when he spoke. “You’d be surprised, then.” 

Harry’s sprits fell. Whatever Mr Tomlinson had done must have been despicable if it made Nick this distressed. Harry put a hand to on his arm. “Nick. Please, tell me.”

“Alright.” Nick took another deep breath and wiped his forehead. “You wouldn’t believe this, but Mr Tomlinson and I actually grew up together under the same household. My parents died of early age. I was but a servant’s son, but even so, Mr Tomlinson’s father treated me like a son of his own. He was a great man.” Nick turned to face Harry. His mouth was tilted downwards. “It’s a shame his son grew up to have none of his qualities.”

Harry frowned, nodding, urging him to continue his story. 

“Even as a child, he was always unbelievably proud. He treated his servants like filth, and sometimes me as well. He refused to play with me, and usually wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence. Never would he treat me like an equal. Nothing like his father. However, even great men die.” Nick sighed. Neither one spoke for a minute, letting the wind in the trees fill the silence. Harry waited. “Do you know what he said to me on his deathbed?” 

Harry’s heart beat loudly in his chest and he had trouble breathing. “No.”

Nick looked at Harry thoroughly. His brown eyes shone in the sun. “He looked me in the eyes and said – ‘Nick. You are the son I never had. Never let anyone tell you you’re below them simply because your lack of wealth.’” Nick swallowed, and started blinking quickly. “And then he, he- “ Nick tried to take another deep breath, composing himself, “-he died.”

Nick buried his face in his hands, and Harry instantly put an arm around his shoulder. “Nick, I am so, so sorry.”

Nick removed his hands and his breath hitched. “I’m sorry. I’m embarrassing myself.”

“No,” Harry quickly denied. “Not at all. Please, continue.”

“Right.” Nick folded his hands on his lap. “After his passing, I had been promised a part of his fortune. Nowhere near the amount of his son, but still a considerable amount. As you are probably well aware, the Tomlinson family is one of the richest in England. I was planning on studying, I wanted to become a priest. However, when old Mr Tomlinson died, his son refused me any part of the fortune. Not even when I begged and pleaded for it. He refused to give me even a penny. He still treated me like I was below him, as if I was dirt.” Nick laughed a quiet, self-depriving laugh. “Still does, obviously, since he still won’t even acknowledge my presence.”

Harry sat still. “That’s awful.”

“So, here I am, a poor soldier, whereas he lives in his fancy home and attends his marvellous balls, which he probably doesn’t even enjoy.” 

Harry blinked. Well, he got that one right. 

“Do you want to know why I think he did it?” Nick asked. “Why he denied me any part of the fortune?” 

“Yes.”

“Because he was jealous,” Nick said. His voice was stone dead and cold. “He was jealous that his father loved me more than him, and he was too proud to ever forgive me for it.”

Harry breathed heavily. The lake in front of him was still motionless and peaceful, in contrast to Harry who was boiling on the inside. 

“That’s despicable,” Harry said, his voice low and dark. “I can’t believe he did that.” 

Nick shrugged. “Yes, well, that is the truth.” He laughed, but it sounded forced. “Are you honestly surprised?” 

“Well.” Harry thought about it for a second. “Not really.”

They sat in silence, both of them stuck in their own minds. Harry had an uneasy feeling in his gut and he didn’t know what to do about it. 

“But we shouldn’t let that trouble our minds any longer.” Nick finally said and stood up, offering a hand for Harry to grab. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Harry grabbed his hand. It was warm and soft. “Let's.”

They walked until the sun got low on the sky, and the wind went cold. 

 

\--

 

Harry could have predicted how his late night conversation with Zayn would go, even before he had even had it. 

“And you are sure about this?” 

“Oh, I am one hundred sure,” Harry said. “It all made sense. The dates, the characters, the location. I could see it in his eyes, Zayn. He was not lying.”

“Still,” Zayn said, frowning, “I can’t believe he would do such a thing.” 

Harry snorted. “Are you surprised?” 

Zayn gave him a long look. “ _Yes._ ”

“Yes, well,” Harry folded his arms across his chest, “I certainly am not. It’s exactly what you could have expected from him.”

“But,” Zayn tried again, “don’t you think it is a bit unreasonable to just take Mr Grimshaw’s word like that? Without giving Mr Tomlinson a chance to explain himself?” 

“No,” Harry said, stubbornly. “I think Nick was the telling the truth, and I don’t think Mr Tomlinson deserves the right to defend himself at the moment.”

Zayn smirked. “Do you want to know what I think?” 

“Sure.”

“I think you like him.”

Harry frowned. “Who?” 

“Mr Grimshaw, of course.”

Harry could feel his cheeks heating up, and he started picking on his fingernails. “I admit I do like him. I like him very much. I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t like him. He’s perfectly likeable.”

Zayn smiled at him. “I mean, _like him_ , like him.”

“Yes, well.” Harry shuffled uncomfortably. He did _like him_ , like him. Again, why wouldn’t he? “I think you _like_ , like Mr Payne, and that’s why you’re so against the idea that his best friend could be an arsehole. “

Zayn’s smile faded. “You’re right. I do like him, and I do worry that if his friend has such a bad character, what if he does too?” 

Harry wished he could come up with words that would erase Zayn’s worrying for all eternity. But there was probably no such thing. However, Harry did the best he could. “Don’t worry Zayn, just because one of them is a dick, doesn’t mean the other one is as well.”

Zayn laugh was quiet. “Let’s just go to sleep.”

“Let’s.” 

After such an eventful day, it didn’t take long before Harry fell into deep sleep. He could still feel the warmth on his skin, and a smile on his lips. It turned out that no one, and nothing, actually could ruin his day.

He dreamed about swimming in an ocean. 

 

\--

 

That Friday, Harry was just as his brothers, anxious to see if the officers would be coming to the ball or not. There was no denying Harry really wanted to see Nick again. It’s not every day you run into a respectable bachelor, who was also nice and pleasant to be around. Harry didn’t want to get his hopes up, but. Sometimes you did anyway.

“How do I look?” Harry asked, before entering the ball. He’d taken an extra amount of time perfecting his headband today. Just in case. 

Zayn raised an eyebrow. “Since when have you cared about your appearance?”

“I don’t!” Harry huffed in defence. “Just making conversation.”

“Okay.” Zayn gave him a sceptic look. “Well, you look wonderful as always.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied shortly, and they walked into the massive building. 

It was a bigger ball than either of the previous ones. Harry’s heart fluttered when he saw some officers. Maybe Nick would be here after all. 

“Harry,” Zayn whispered, turning his attention towards him, “I’m going to go say hello to Mr Payne. Do enjoy yourself in my absence.”

“Okay,” Harry said, and started scanning the room again with his eyes. “Have fun.”

Zayn left, and Harry could still not see a familiar face. It was starting to irk him.

“Who are you looking for?” A voice behind him asked. 

Harry turned around and saw one of Nick’s officer friends, whose name he could not remember, looking at him bemused. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying, if it’s Nick you’re looking for, I wouldn’t encourage you to hold your breath.” 

Harry’s heart sunk. He didn’t even bother denying he was looking for him. “What do you mean?” 

The officer gave him a pointing look. “It appears as if a certain gentleman had something to do with it.”

Harry’s snorted. _A certain gentleman._ No wonder who that was. 

“I understand. Thank you for telling me.”

“My pleasure. Please, enjoy the rest of the evening.”

Harry was 99% positive he would not do that, but he thanked him nevertheless and walked away, trying to find someone which he could share his anger with. 

The music was loud, but it wasn’t in tune with Harry emotions. Harry wanted it shrieking and off beat; not gentle and happy. Harry wanted the people stomping their feet and screaming, not dancing. The air was warm and humid, and Harry wanted to make his way through the crowd with his elbows. Luckily, he was able to find Greg James without too much difficulty. And luckily, he wasn’t dancing but standing a couple of meters away from the spectacle, enjoying the sight with an amused expression on his face. 

“Greg!” Harry exclaimed.

Greg turned around, smiling. “Hello, Harry. How are you?” 

Not even able to form words, Harry just shook his head thoroughly as an answer. 

“What’s the matter?” Greg asked, frowning. “Has something happened?” 

“I have so much to tell you,” Harry hissed, before grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the dancing hall. “Come.”

They stopped in a restricted area, which Harry concluded was empty enough for him to spill his beans. 

He started out by telling him of how they’d run into the officers in town, and then how Nick had told him his tragic story, till the ending, where Mr Tomlinson had made sure Nick wouldn’t get invited to the ball. When he was done, Harry was positively writhing with rage. 

“Can you believe that?” Harry asked. 

“Well… yes,” Greg said, calm and sensible as always. “Are you surprised? That is what people do.”

“Yes, I know. But it’s, it’s just – it’s wrong.”

“Of course. The world is an unjust place. You, out of all people, should know this.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I know. I was just bit upset there for a moment.”

“It’s alright. You are allowed to feel human emotions every once in a while.” Greg gave him an amused look. “Actually, I was a bit surprised to hear you say this, because I saw Mr Tomlinson following you with his eyes on your way over.”

Harry blinked. “Me?” 

“Yes.”

Harry snorted. “He was probably only trying to find more imperfections in me, since I wasn’t ‘handsome enough for him’.”

Greg chuckled. “Indeed, it must be so. However, have you ever considered –“His words got stuck in his throat, and his eyes widened. 

Harry followed his gaze and saw a certain gentleman stepping out of the dancing hall. 

When Mr Tomlinson saw them standing there, he immediately met Harry’s eye and walked up to them. Harry stood frozen in his spot, unable to move. 

“Mr Harry Styles, there you are,” he said, keeping eye contact with Harry. “I was wondering if you’d do me the honour of accompanying me in the next dance.”

Harry’s words got stuck in his throat. He looked at Greg, but he, of course, remained silent and waited for Harry to speak. 

Harry looked back at Mr Tomlinson’s expectant face and tried to think of something to say, anything other than yes, like, _when I think about you I want to punch a wall, your smile could give me nightmares, you shouldn’t be here, I want you to hate me_ , but what came out was, “Of course.”

What. 

“Excellent.” Mr Tomlinson gave a courteous nod before walking off into the hall. 

Greg and Harry were alone again. Harry stood still until what had just happened caught onto him and he cried out, “No! Why did I do that?” 

Greg smiled comforting. “There, there, it’s just a dance. It won’t be that bad.”

“It’s just most inconvenient since I’ve just sworn to loath him for all eternity!”

Both Harry and Greg started laughing. 

“Go,” Greg said and gave Harry a push into the hall. 

Harry groaned but obliged. There was nothing he could do now anyway. He’d just have to suffer through it. 

It was just typical that his mind would fail him at just that moment. Why couldn’t he have thought of a lie? Like, maybe he was busy? Maybe he had injured his knee? Maybe he was allergic to this song? Okay, maybe that wasn’t scientifically possible. Although it certainly felt like it at that moment. 

Harry walked through the sea of people, until he saw Mr Tomlinson, already present. Harry stepped in front of him

They made eye contact. Neither one said anything. Neither one smiled. Perfect. 

When the song started, Harry and Mr Tomlinson, as well as the rest of the couples, started moving. 

And it wasn’t quiet exactly, since the music was still playing, but it was quiet conversation wise. If Mr Tomlinson had dragged him here to dance with him, the least he could do was talk to him like a decent human being. 

“Do you have a rule not to talk when you dance, Mr Tomlinson?” Harry asked as he made a turn. Or do you have a rule not to talk at all? 

Mr Tomlinson gave him a short, unimpressed look. “I don’t have a rule not to do so, no.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Typical that he’d give such a short, impersonal answer. It was as if they were discussing the economy. (“Have you seen the rise of the dollar?” “I have not done so, no.”)

“Then why don’t you? We’re in a room full of people of all ages and wealth. Surely, there’s something you can think of to comment on.”

Mr Tomlinson pressed his lips together. “Tell me what you wish me to remark upon, and I’ll be happy to oblige.”

Harry sighed and looked out over the room. Maybe the other people had partners that could actually carry a conversation without instruction. “That remark will do for now. Wouldn’t want you ruining your voice now, would we?” 

“Whatever you say, Mr Styles.”

They carried on dancing as the song progressed into something more forceful, the beat quickening. It took Harry by surprise when Mr Tomlinson raised his voice to say, “May I perhaps comment on the way you look tonight?” 

Harry’s hummed. “You may.”

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes scanned his face for a second before he said, “I like what you’ve done to your hair. The headband suits you very well.”

Harry smiled, but it was bitter sweet. Although he appreciated it being noticed, it was not from whom he wanted it to be noticed by. “Thank you.”

“Are you going to say anything in return?” 

Harry looked at his face. Grave and severe as always, but this time with a glint in his blue eyes, somewhat close to mischief. As if he knew he knew he was the most handsome man in the room, in the world, and was just waiting for Harry to confirm it. 

Well, Harry would do no such thing.

“Your shoes have a pleasant black colour.”

Mr Tomlinson raised an eyebrow. “I had them polished earlier this week.” 

Harry hummed. “Intriguing. Tell me more about that.” 

Harry swirled and faced an unknown woman before turning back to Mr Tomlinson, who said, “Why do I get the feeling you’re being insincere?” 

“How would I know why you’re feeling that way?” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know you at all, do I? So how would I be able explain your emotions?” 

“I only assumed with your attitude, and manner of speaking, that you’d have an answer for everything.”

“Nobody has the answer for everything,“ Harry countered. “Plus, I did answer your question though, didn’t I? Just not how you wanted me to.” 

Mr Tomlinson scowled. “Please, do tell me how I wanted you to answer it then.”

“You wanted me to assure you of how wrong you were, and that I would never, ever be insincere with you.”

Mr Tomlinson huffed. “How would you know that if you don’t know me at all?” 

Harry gave him a long look. “I know your type.” Rude, arrogant, self-obsessed. “You don’t like it when people don’t treat you with the respect you have entitled yourself.”

Mr Tomlinson seemed to stop in his tracks for just a tiny moment before catching himself. “Is it wrong of me to expect people to treat me in such a manner?” 

“Indeed it is not wrong of you,” Harry said. “I never said it was.” 

Mr Tomlinson took a step closer. “Then what are you saying?” 

“I’m not saying anything,” Harry countered quickly, defensive. “I’m just trying to figure out your character.”

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes narrowed, as if they were curious and anxious at the same time. “And how is that going?” 

“Not well at all,” Harry said, also taking a step closer. Mr Tomlinson’s face was not too far away, but at the same time it was in another galaxy. Untouchable. Unreachable.

Mr Tomlinson looked away. His blue eyes were fixed at something in the distance, as if it was not Harry he was talking to, but someone else. “You were right when you said I crave other people’s respect. Is it wrong of me to do so? My trust once lost is lost forever.”

“Grave words to say at a ball.” 

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes shot back to Harry. They were burning like fire. “Would you rather I lied? Make up another character for your amusement?” 

Harry’s heart spend up. He had no right to talk to him like that. “I don’t want you to do anything than be sincere. You’re not the only one who expects that out of people.”

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes sparkled as he opened his mouth to say something, and Harry took yet another step closer, so he could feel his body heat. They were like magnets, but Harry couldn't tell if they drew each other closer, or pushed each other away. The music was loud, people were dancing, Harry was panting, Mr Tomlinson was burning, opening his mouth to speak, Harry looked at him, but then – the song ended. 

They were both broken out of their reverie. The world went back to its original pace. Harry’s breathing slowed down. They started looking around themselves in confusion. People were clapping their hands. 

Harry blinked before he started clapping his as well. If the song was over, then so be it. He turned to Mr Tomlinson. “Thank you for the dance.” 

Harry didn’t give him a chance so say anything in return before storming away. 

He didn’t see him again throughout the rest of the night. Perfect. 

 

\--

 

The next day, Harry decided to go for a walk. Alone. 

The forecast was grey and the wind was cool, so Harry had his coat on. 

He’d tried to explain Mr Tomlinson’s explicit emotions, but he found no real explanation. It was odd that such a man was so well acquainted with Mr Payne, who was all sunshine and rainbows in gloomy England.

Harry could tell Zayn really liked him, he had been happier than he’d been in a very long time; talking more than usually and smiling when he thought no one saw. Harry couldn’t be happier for him. It was also obvious that Mr Payne was also deeply infatuated with Zayn; always chasing after him at the balls, asking for another dance. Harry knew not to get his hopes up, but he did believe a marriage would occur soon. Truly, it was the only logical thing now. Zayn’s future would be secured, both financially and in terms of his happiness. He’d found someone who loved him, and that was extremely rare. Which is why Harry also felt a slight pain in his gut. 

It’s not as if Harry wanted to get married, per say. He just also wanted to leave the house. He wanted explore the world. He wanted to stop worrying. And he didn’t want to be alone when Zayn left. 

If he could have supported himself financially, he would have done so. It just turned out that being able to offer sarcastic commentary at any given situation actually wasn’t a professional working title. Nevertheless, Harry refused, _refused_ , to marry someone he did not truly love. He would not do it. 

If he would end up poor on the street, then so be it. At least he’d have his integrity. 

He’d been walking in the forest for quite some time, lost in his thoughts when he heard someone shout, “Harry!”

Harry turned around and saw a familiar face. “Nick!” He’s insides immediately warmed up. 

Nick walked up to him, taking big steps. He was wearing his officers clothing accompanied with a wide smile. “What are you doing here?” 

Harry took a step closer until they were standing right in front of each other. “I could ask you the same question.”

“Guess,” Nick told him.

“Hm.” Harry pondered it. “Chopping wood? Working on the muscles?”

Nick’s face lit up. “Exactly! How did you know?” 

Harry shrugged, with a pleased smile. “I have my ways.”

“Naturally.”

“But really, what are you doing here?”

“Following you, of course,” Nick replied, smirking. “What else?” 

Harry laughed self-consciously. “Right.” 

“I’m only joking, love, you can relax.” Nick winked. 

“I assumed.” Harry took a look at his surroundings, the big trees and the grass which was slowly turning green. It would be summer soon. “I was only out for a walk. I like the nature. It’s calming.”

“Aye, me too. That was exactly what I was doing as well.” 

Harry took a deep breath and let the damp air fill his lungs. 

“So, you have a day off today?” 

“Ah, yes. Unlucky about the weather, but what can you do?” 

Harry nodded, but decided to change the topic. There is only so long you can talk about the weather before it turns boring. (Five seconds.) “I noticed you weren’t at the ball yesterday.”

“Yes, um.” Nick coughed and looked away. His eyes were troubled and he bit his lip. “I was unfortunately working that night.”

Harry put a hand on his arm. The fabric was rough and soft at the same time. “You don’t need to lie. I know why you weren’t there. Your friend told me.”

Nick’s eyes found Harry’s. “It’s just very unfortunate. I would have loved to be there. If,” Nick’s eyes went soft, “if you know what I mean.” 

Harry smiled and let his hand slid down to Nick’s, nodding. He did know. 

Nick sighed, and looked up at the sky. “It looks like it’s about to rain.”

Indeed, it did. Harry’s eyes went upward, and the sky was turning a dark shade of grey. It would start raining any moment. “I should go home.”

Nick extended his arm. “May I have the honour of walking you home?” 

Harry beamed. That was an easy question. “You may.” 

The two of them started walking in the direction of Harry’s house. 

“Would you mind telling me what you were thinking about, before I so rudely interrupted?" Nick asked. "If you don’t mind telling me.” 

Harry didn’t mind. He told him about Zayn and Mr Payne. 

“You must be very happy for them,” Nick said once Harry had finished. They were almost out of the forest by now.

“I am,” Harry confirmed. “Couldn’t be happier.”

Nick gave him a look as if he didn’t believe him. “Yet, it seems as if there’s something troubling you.” 

Harry gulped and stopped walking. Nick let go of his arm. 

“It’s nothing, really. I guess I’m just worried. About the future. My own.”

There was something in Nick’s expression close to understanding. “Of course.” He looked away for a second, his eyes absent. “I worry about my own, sometimes.”

“It’s hard not to, occasionally.” Occasionally. Every week. Every day. Every hour.

The wind was piercing cold, and hit Harry forcefully, going straight through every piece of his clothing and into his bones. 

Nick grabbed his hand, warming him up slightly. “Please know, that if circumstances were different.”

 _If circumstances were different._

Harry smiled faintly. “I know. Please, whatever you do, do not apologise. I will be fine, and as will you.”

“I know,” Nick said. It didn’t sound like he meant it. “It’s just unfair.”

“Life is unfair, Nick,” Harry huffed. “Didn’t anybody tell you?” 

Nick smiled but it was distant and shallow. Harry’s could relate. “I might have heard it somewhere.”

Harry opened his mouth, but suddenly a drop of rain fell on his face. And then another, and other – 

Nick started laughing. “Rain! Didn’t I tell you so?” 

Within seconds, it was storming. Harry pulled his coat closer to his body. 

“Well, this is my queue to leave,” Nick shouted through the rain. “It was nice seeing you, Harry!” 

“You too!” Harry meant it. “I will see you again soon.”

“Indeed, we will. Take care in the meantime.”

Harry watched as Nick ran away from him through the rain, before turning around himself and running to his own house. Thankfully, it wasn’t a long run. 

When he entered, he was soaking wet and longed for a hot bath to warm his cold body. He was in the business of removing his shoes, when he heard his mother speak. 

“Harry, I’ve told you not to go out in the rain. You’re going to catch a cold.” 

Harry stood up. “I’ll be alright. Wasn’t out in the rain too long.” He took a step into the house. “Where’s Zayn? I need to speak with him.” 

Anne sighed, which was never a good sign. 

Harry’s shoulders slumbered. “What has father done this time?” 

Anne rolled her eyes. “Zayn received a letter from Miss Payne, inviting him to dinner tonight.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Surely that’s a good thing, though.”

“It would have been, if your father hadn’t insisted on him going on horseback.” 

Harry blinked. “ _Horseback?_ ”

Anne nodded solemnly. 

Harry walked to the window and looked out. The rain was pouring down more heavily than it had in a long time. And it way a long way to Netherfield. 

“Poor Zayn.”


	3. Chapter 3

At the dinner table the next morning, Harry was more than eager to hear news about Zayn, who hadn’t returned home last night. His absence was painfully obvious.

“We have received a letter,” their mother announced as she walked into the kitchen. 

Harry held his breath. _Saying that Zayn is fine and will be back today._

“From Netherfield.”

_Saying that Zayn is fine and will be back today._

“It says that he is ill, and will be staying at Netherfield until he feels better.” 

Well, that’s it. 

“That’s it!” Harry announced and quickly stood up. “I’m walking over.”

Anne put the envelope down on the table, and raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re doing what?”

“I’m walking over,” Harry repeated. “If Zayn is ill and needs me, then I will be there.”

If Harry happened to sound like a superhero saying that, well. No harm done. (“If Zayn needs me, then I, sir Harry of Cheshire, Master of Kongfu, will be there!”)

Of course Anne had to ruin his fantasies. “There was no specification in the letter saying you were needed, though,” she said. “I’m sure Mr Payne will take care of him.”

“You never know,” Harry said. “He might mix up the medicine or something. Something tells me he isn’t a licenced doctor.”

Anne snorted. “Yes, but something tells me he has the money to afford a licenced doctor.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yes, but something tells me that I don’t care whether or not he has a licenced doctor, I’m still going over there.”

It didn’t matter if the letter hadn’t specified that he needed Harry there. Harry would do anything for Zayn, needed or not, and that was really the end of the discussion. Without any further ado, Harry turned around and walked out into the hallway where he started putting his coat on. 

Before he opened the door and exited, he heard his father shout, “Be nice and don’t scare Mr Payne away!”

Harry slammed the door. 

The sky had cleared up since yesterday, and Harry could hear birds twittering in the trees. It was a pleasant walk.

It wasn’t until Netherfield was in sight that his father’s words caught on to him. _Be nice?_ Harry was always nice. _Don’t scare Mr Payne away?_ Harry never scared anyone away. At least that he knew of. And that cousin a couple of years ago, Miss Kardashian, really didn’t count. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t know she was afraid spiders. Putting a spider in her shoe was supposed to be funny, “welcome to the family”-ish, not scary. But okay, so Harry had been a bit of a weird child. _Whatever._

Harry started muttering to himself in his father’s accent. “Be nice Harry and don’t scare Mr Payne away. Because I don’t trust you enough to think for yourself and not put spiders in rich people’s shoes.” Frowning, Harry snorted and looked down at the ground. “Blablabla.”

The leaves seemed more colourful today than they had yesterday. Probably had something to do with the sun lightening them up. Harry walked on the crusty ones to create that crunchy sound that everyone liked when – 

“Mr Styles?” 

Harry’s blood went cold. _Not again._

He turned around and saw a certain gentleman, only two meters away from him, leaning casually against a tree. 

And why did people creep up to him like that when he was out walking? Harry didn’t know if it was because people in general were awfully sneaky or if he was just bad at paying attention to his surroundings. Probably the latter. Also, since Mr Tomlinson was standing still. _Whatever._

It also irked Harry, because in this afternoon light, Mr Tomlinson looked better than ever before. The sun made his skin glow, and the leaves weren’t the only ones who seemed more colourful this time of day. 

Not that Harry noticed. 

“Mr Tomlinson.” Harry kept his voice deliberately cold and distant. 

Mr Tomlinson took a step closer. He was wearing a fancy outfit and Harry immediately felt underdressed, his own clothes probably dirty after the long walk. Harry looked away so he wouldn’t be intimidated. 

“Were you talking to yourself just now?” Mr Tomlinson’s voice sounded amused. 

Harry straightened up. “I did no such thing.”

Mr Tomlinson snorted. “You did, it was a rhetorical question. But if it makes you feel more comfortable, we can pretend it didn't happen.”

 _God._ Harry wanted to stamp the ground, and punch Mr Tomlinson in his face, and storm away. _At least I’m not the one who’s creeping up to people like a creep. Even though you were standing still. Standing still like a creep._

Instead he walked forward, in the direction of Netherfield. “Oh, wow, how very noble of you. Please, allow me to recommend you for the next Peace award.” 

Mr Tomlinson followed him. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” 

“That thing where I can’t tell if you’re being insincere or not.”

Well… Harry stopped and turned around, his heart beating loudly in his chest. “Well, stop talking to me if it’s bothering you so much.”

Mr Tomlinson stared at him, blinking. Shocked for once. It took a while before he let out a, “What?” 

Harry sighed. “Never mind.” They were almost at the door step now. “Forgive me, Mr Tomlinson. I am here to inquire after my brother. I heard he was ill. May I go see him?” 

It took a second for Mr Tomlinson to catch up to the change of topic. “Of course. He is in the guest room, resting. I could escort you.”

Harry coughed. “Oh no, by all means, do not trouble yourself. I will be perfectly fine on my own.”

And with that, Harry turned around, feeling proud of himself. He didn’t need anyone’s help. 

When he entered the house, it didn’t take long for a servant to go find Mr Payne. 

“Harry!” He exclaimed when he saw him, beaming as always. “How marvellous it is to see you!”

Harry smiled. “Thank you very much. I am here to see my brother.”

“Of course.” Mr Payne’s smile faltered, and he stepped closer. “I am afraid he has caught a cold. A quite nasty one, too”

“Yes, we have received your letter.” 

Mr Payne nodded grimly. “Please, let me show you the way.”

The mansion was huge. The ceiling was high, and the staircase went on for ages. The walls had a creamy white colour, whereas the walls at Harry’s house were a faded brown, looking more and more outworn as the years flew by. This house seemed timeless, infinite. It was exactly what Zayn deserved. 

Mr Payne opened the door and Harry stepped in and was greeted by the sight of Zayn lying in a bed, bigger than the one their parents shared. When he heard them entering, he opened his eyes and smiled tentatively. 

“Shit, Zayn,” Harry said as he walked forward and grabbed his hand. It was cold. “How are you feeling?” 

Zayn cleared his throat. There was a layer of sweat on his forehead. “I’ve been better.” His voice had a deep edge to it, rougher than it normally was.

Harry could feel Mr Payne coming up behind him. “You can stay for as long as you want.”

Zayn’s smile grew a little. “Thank you.” 

“Alright, well, I will leave you two alone then,” Mr Payne said as he walked toward the door. “Please, let me know if there is anything you need. Anything at all.”

“We will, thank you.” Harry smiled, grateful for his obvious concern for his brother. 

Mr Payne nodded and closed the door behind him. 

“Jesus, Zayn,” Harry said and pulled up a chair to sit on next to the bed. “You couldn’t have picked a worse time to get sick. But at the same time you couldn’t have picked a better one, either.”

Zayn chuckled. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” Harry said, “that from a selfish prospective, now I am stuck here taking care of you.”

“And is that so bad?” Zayn asked.

“With Mr Tomlinson here?” Harry replied. “Yes. Indeed, it is very bad. He is probably downstairs talking about how ill-dressed I am. Or how crazy I am because I talk to myself.”

Zayn gave him a long look, raising an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Harry sighed. “However, it is good you’re here because now Mr Payne has the perfect excuse to spoil you rotten.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Stop it. He hasn’t spoiled me that much.”

“Oh, really?” Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Really,” Zayn deadpanned. “He has only summoned the local doctor, asked me if I’m fine about twenty times today, and offered me the finest room in the house. No big deal at all.”

Harry chuckled and looked at the bed. “To be honest with you, I’m a bit jealous that I’m not the sick one because that bed looks extremely comfortable.”

“It is,” Zayn confirmed, smirking. 

“I can imagine. And also, because you’re socially allowed to stay up here without it being weird.”

“Oh, stop moping Harry,” Zayn said. “You’ll be alright.”

Harry laughed. “But what’s the point in living if I’m not allowed to complain about it?”

Zayn smiled gently. “You’re supposed to enjoy it.”

Harry sighed and rested his head in his palm. “I’ll endure, but I won’t enjoy it.”

 

\--

 

Later that night, Harry walked down the large staircase, after Zayn had kicked him out of the room. Not literally since he was still too weak to move, but he’d used his voice.

He’d been down for supper earlier, which, admittedly, had been alright. Mr Payne had been very pleasant, and Miss Payne could also be approachable, when she wanted to be. However, Harry could still sense an edge of hostility in her, no matter how many times Zayn assured him it was all in his head. Mr Tomlinson had mostly been quiet, which Harry did not mind.

Harry was lucky, also, that he wasn’t the only guest. There was a couple, Mr and Mrs Winston, also present. They were very chatty, filling up every second with stories about the last time they’d gone to London, the last time they’d gone to Paris, the last time they’d gone sailing, etc. Harry usually had nothing to contribute these stories with, so he was mostly quiet and enjoyed the tales from a world he would probably never experience for himself. 

When Harry had reached the bottom floor, he was suddenly at loss of what he should be doing next. Where were everyone else? Harry didn’t really fancy walking around the bottom floor alone and awkward. He should have been given a map when he arrived. 

He walked around in the big hall, looking for the living room where presumably the others were, when he spotted an old, brown door. It looked strangely inviting. 

Well, it was like Harry always said… _might as well._

He walked forward, pulled down the handle and peaked in, and… of course. 

Why, why, why. 

If it wasn’t … a certain gentleman. 

Mr Tomlinson stood by himself, of course, playing pool, naturally, shirtless, Harry’s heart stopped. 

When he noticed the door had been opened, his head turned around and their eyes met, for what seemed like one hour to Harry, but was probably more like one second. 

Mr Tomlinson dropped the stick on the table, and Harry kept his eyes firmly on his face. _Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down_ \- “Mr Styles.”

Harry slammed the door shut. 

Panting hysterically, he walked away, in no direction really, just walking until – 

“Mr Styles?”

Harry turned around, and saw Miss Payne standing there with a knowing grin on her face. Her gown was beautiful and she just looked very dressed up. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, chuckling. 

“Yes, very much so,” Harry replied. “I am perfectly fine.”

“I am pleased to hear it,” she said, still with that edge to her voice as if she wasn’t actually meaning it. “I saw you walking into Mr Tomlinson’s private room.”

Harry’s cheek heated up. _Well, if she saw it, why didn’t she stop him?_ “Yes.”

“Between you and me,” she said and took a step closer, lowering her voice, “he doesn’t like it when people disturb him.”

“Oh,” Harry said, unable to think of anything else. Well. Of course he didn’t. Who liked being disturbed? But couldn’t he have a warning sign or something? _Warning: rich man playing pool shirtless, do not enter._ That would have done it. Although, that might have attracted even more viewers, come to think of it. 

“Oh, never mind,” Miss Payne said, and waved her hand dismissively. “I’m sure he’ll forgive you. Come, you must join us in the living room.”

Harry followed her into a great room, where everyone else already sat, playing a game of cards. Harry politely declined their offer to play with them, and took a book from the shelves instead. However, he could not focus on the words, too distracted by the previous events. 

Sometime later, Harry didn’t know how long, he heard someone entering the room. He stared down at the book as furiously as he could, pretending to be intrigued by it, even though he had no idea what it was even about. However, it seemed to be about a famer in Switzerland, handling her breed. 

As the steps got closer, Harry furrowed his eyebrows together and hoped he looked positively entrapped by the novel. _Oh, wow, that is so intriguing. Are they in love? But there is a war happening! How will this work? Oh, wow. So intriguing, so engrossing, so fascinating, so –_

“Mr Styles?” 

Slowly, Harry raised his head up and saw Mr Tomlinson standing in front of him, thankfully fully dressed this time. “Yes?” Harry piped. 

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes looked the way they always did, blue as ice and distant like the arctic sea, but there was no trace of anger in them. His hair looked darker in the twilight, and his tan not as predominant. “May I inquire about your brother? Is he feeling better?” 

“Thank you,” Harry said, and tried not to let his confusion show. “He is feeling better, but I’m afraid he is still ill.”

“Does that mean your stay at Netherfield will be prolonged as well?” 

Harry closed the book gently. “I’m afraid so, yes.”

Mr Tomlinson nodded, but said nothing. He had an unreadable look on his face. Harry sat watching him, waiting for him to speak but nothing happened. Harry began feeling uncomfortable. Should he apologise? It wasn’t really his fault since he had not known he should not have entered. But it might make it less awkward. Maybe Mr Tomlinson was waiting for an explanation. 

Harry was rescued out of his agony when Mr Tomlinson bowed and walked away. Harry’s eyes followed him as he sat down next to a table. 

“Will you not join us, Mr Tomlinson?” Miss Payne asked. “There is always room for one more.”

“I can’t,” he replied. “I have a letter to write.”

“To whom?” 

“My sister.”

Harry’s interest peaked. He did not know he had a sister. 

“Which one?” 

Several, even. 

“Lottie,” Mr Tomlinson answered. 

“Oh, Lottie!” Miss Payne exclaimed. “How I miss her! Tell me, is she alright? Is she still taking piano lessons? Oh, she is so accomplished.”

“She is indeed, she’s getting better every day.”

Harry returned his attention to his book. He tried to read the scene in front of him. Apparently, it was about the farmer, named Anita, milking a cow. What. 

“Can you play the piano, Mr Styles?” 

Harry blinked, and looked up at Miss Payne. “Excuse me?”

She smiled sweetly. “I asked you if you can play the piano.”

“Oh, um. Only a little, and very poorly.” Harry wished he was being modest, but his piano skills really weren’t anything he could brag about. He could, however, sing quite well. But it was only something he enjoyed doing if he was very comfortable, and at the moment, he could not be any more uncomfortable. So better to not say anything, so no one suggested anything. 

“I’m sure you’re only being modest,” Miss Payne said. 

Harry pressed his lips together, remaining silent. 

“Mr Tomlinson always says that a good way to see a person’s character is to look at their musical advantages, because then you can tell the person’s creativity” Miss Payne said. 

Mr Tomlinson continued writing, keeping his eyes glued on his paper and not commenting on the subject. 

Realising he would not say anything, Miss Payne turned to Harry. “What do you think about that, Mr Styles?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I think Mr Tomlinson says a lot of things.”

At that, Mr Tomlinson dropped his pen, and looked at Harry, his eyes narrowing. “So, you would not agree, then? That a sense of creativity is an important part of a person’s appeal?” 

“I think it can be,” Harry replied. “But to assume that it is a trivial part seems unreasonable. Not to say that creativity is not an appreciated part of another person, but I don’t think necessarily because someone can press the right notes at the right time, means that person is creative. It can also just as much mean that person had accomplished parent with a beautiful piano forte, which the child had been forced to play on since an early age.” 

Again, Mr Tomlinson’s expression was not angry, but it was however, unreadable. Maybe he was boiling on the inside. Maybe he had accomplished parents who had never forced him to smile. The world would never know. “How would you describe creativity then?” 

“I think anyone who thinks for themselves, makes their own decisions and not something which was expected out of them. Isn’t necessarily bound to instruments.”

Mr Tomlinson stared at him. “I see.”

“I realise this might just sound as an excuse since I cannot play.” Harry cleared his throat. “But all I’m saying is that you shouldn’t have a predefined opinion what things are and what they aren’t, just because someone has told you so.” 

The room was silent. 

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes still hadn’t moved. “Right.”

To avoid his gaze, Harry looked down at his book again. 

When Harry peaked up from his book, Mr Tomlinson had gone back to writing. Good. 

“Please tell Lottie that I long to see her,” Miss Payne said, breaking the silence. 

“I already have,” Mr Tomlinson replied. 

“And you are sure you don’t want to join us?” 

“I am quite certain.”

Harry wondered how long he had been downstairs. Surely, it was socially acceptable to leave now. Harry decided it was. 

“I’m a bit tired,” Harry announced, and stood up. “I think I’m going to bed.” 

Mr Tomlinson’s head shot up. “Already? But it just got dark.”

“I have walked a long distance, and my feet are aching,” Harry told him. It was a lie, since he was used to walking long distances. 

Mr Tomlinson seemed to have bought it, anyway, since his face immediately turned grave. “Of course.”

Harry bowed and excused himself. 

He truly hoped Zayn would feel better soon. For both their sakes. 

 

\--

 

When Harry walked down the staircase the next day, it was more his empty stomach rather than Zayn, forcing him downstairs. 

When he entered the dining room, it immediately turned uncomfortably quiet. Harry stood in the doorway awkwardly. 

“Harry!” Mr Payne exclaimed cheerfully, breaking the silence. “I’m glad you are up. Please, sit down. Did you sleep well?” 

Harry sat down next to Mrs Winston. “I did.”

“I dare say, for someone who went to bed so early, you sure slept late,” Miss Payne commented. “You must have been exhausted.”

“You are mistaken,” Harry said as he took a slice bread from the table. “I have been awake for a while, but I was keeping my brother company.” 

“How is he?” Mr Payne asked. 

“Better,” Harry replied. 

“Please know he is allowed to stay for as long as he needs.”

Harry could see Miss Payne rolling her eyes in his peripheral vision.

“We know and we are grateful,” Harry said. “However, I must say that I could have remained in bed all day if possible. Your beds are terribly comfortable.”

Mr Payne grinned. “I am glad to hear it.”

Harry smiled and took a bite from his bread. 

“So, you have no plans then?” Mr Tomlinson asked. “For the day? If you’re not planning on spending it in bed.”

Harry put the bread back on his plate. “Um. No?” Although the idea of spending it in bed was still rather tempting. Maybe Mr Tomlinson would like to join. 

Wait, no. Harry would rather light himself on fire. Right. 

It’s not as if Mr Tomlinson would have wanted to anyway. Not that Harry wanted him to want to, or anything. 

“Then it’s settled!” Mr Payne exclaimed. Harry turned to look at him, and he was more excited than ever before. And that was saying something. “I must have you joining us on our trip today!”

Harry nearly choked on his bread. “Trip?” 

“We’re going golfing!” Mr Payne grinned. 

Oh, no. Not golfing. Harry would probably hit someone in the head with a ball and then get hated for all eternity. No thank you. 

“I don’t know about that,” Harry said, chuckling self-consciously. 

“I insist!”

_Of course you do._

“But I can’t play.” 

“We’ll teach you.”

“But –“ Harry looked out over the table, at the eyes looking at him with expectancy and confusion. He really didn’t want to come. “But what if Zayn needs me?” 

Mr Payne opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His expression loosened its glow. 

“Liam has sent for the greatest doctor in England,” Mr Tomlinson said. “He will be taken care of.”

Harry shot him a deadly look. _You just couldn’t be quiet, could you?_ “That’s a comfort.”

Mr Tomlinson nodded. “So you will join us, then?” 

“Um.” Harry reached for his water and took a sip. _I can’t, my throat hurts. I can’t, I’m allergic to fresh air. I can’t, I’m afraid I’m going to kill somebody._ He looked at Mr Tomlinson and his words got stuck in his throat. “Yes.”

“Excellent!” Mr Payne exclaimed. “Just marvellous.” 

Harry nodded slowly. 

“Have you ever played golf before?” Miss Payne asked. 

“No.”

She smiled. “You’ll learn in no time.”

 

\--

 

Harry did not learn in no time. 

No matter how many times Mr Payne tried to show him how to do it, hold the club and swing it, it just didn’t work the way Harry wanted it to. It got to the point where Harry was actually, genuinely concerned about killing someone. But he was a fighter so he decided to give it a try anyway. 

He placed his feet steadily on the ground, applying equal weigh to both them, steading himself. He took a deep breath through his nose, letting it calm his nerves. He lowered his shoulders. He dried his sweaty hands on his trousers before putting them on the club. He bit his lower lip. He took a look at the ball. It wasn’t too far away. He could do this. Just apply some force and hit it. So simple. 

He raised the club slowly, slowly, focused, slowly –

“You’re doing it wrong.”

And Harry lost his focus. 

Mr Tomlinson walked towards him, effortlessly graceful. As if he was mocking Harry’s lack thereof. It wasn’t Harry’s fault he had limbs he had no control over. 

“What.” 

Mr Tomlinson stopped in front of him. “You need to apply more force to the hit or it won’t go anywhere.”

“I know. Mr Payne told me. However, I never had the chance to hit it since you interrupted me.” Harry gave him a pointing look. “An apology might be in order.”

Mr Tomlinson ignored the last part. “I could tell you were going too slowly. Try again. Faster this time.”

Harry scowled as Mr Tomlinson walked away. He did have control over the situation. Mr Tomlinson didn’t know what he was talking about. 

But Harry tried again, faster, more forcefully this time. When he hit the ball, he felt good about it for about a tenth of a second before he noticed that it flew in the completely wrong direction and landed about twenty meters away from the desired target. 

Well. That’s a bit embarrassing. And infuriating. If only he hadn’t been interrupted the first time, it would have gone considerably better. 

He turned to give Mr Tomlinson a look saying _this is your fault._ Hopefully, his glare conveyed all the resentment he felt. 

Mr Tomlinson only gave him an unbothered look. “Golf isn’t my best sport, either,” he said, before turning around and walking to his carriage. 

Harry rolled his eyes. _Golf isn’t my best sport, either._ Of course it wasn’t. How could he have forgotten about douche ball and bitchminton? Harry also bet he loved to go for a swim in his own money. 

“Well, I thought you did really well,” Mr Payne said. 

Harry looked down at the ground. “Thanks.”

“You might still have a shot at improving,” Miss Payne said. 

“Actually, I don’t think golf is really my thing,” Harry said. “I think I’ll spend the rest of the day watching you instead. I think that will be better for everyone involved.” So he might not _accidentally_ hit _someone_ in the head with the ball. But knowing Harry, he’d probably end up smacking himself with the club. 

“Are you giving up?” Miss Payne asked. There was an edge of amusement to her voice. “You surprise me, Mr Styles.”

Harry sighed. “Well, giving up sounds a bit dramatic, doesn’t it? I think I like the sound of ‘realising the act of swinging a metal stick so a round object will end up in a hole in the grass, is not an activity which thoroughly amuses me’ more.”

Miss Payne blinked at him, speechless. Good. 

“Of course,” Mr Payne said. “You do what you want to do. Besides, it is a fine day. You can just enjoy the weather, then.”

Harry looked at him, and gave him a small smile. “You are very considerate,” he said, before turning around and sitting down on a large rock. He turned his head to the right and saw Mr Tomlinson staring at him. Which, okay, so he had given up. _Whatever._ There was no need to rub salt in his wounds. 

Besides, Mr Payne had been right. It was a fine day. Harry had to squint his eyes just to see. So, he could just sit here by himself on his rock, appreciating the weather, while they were out enjoying themselves, having a laugh, and doing something useful with their time, and … Harry would sit here on his rock, appreciating the weather and mediating the meaning of life. And trying not to feel too bitter about coming along. Cool. _Whatever._

When they were finally finished, the sun was hiding behind a cloud, and Harry was starting to get hungry. 

“Let’s go home and eat,” Mr Payne declared. 

That sounded like the best thing Harry had heard all day. 

 

\--

 

The rest of the days went by in a similar manner. They had breakfast, Harry did not come along on any other day time activity. And the evening was spent in the living room, Harry reading, (“reading”, but also, sometimes, actually reading) and the others playing cards. 

“What are you reading?” Mr Tomlinson asked one evening. 

Harry looked at the title. “’Anita’s adventure in the mountains’.” 

“Are you enjoying it?” 

“It’s enjoyable, yes,” Harry said and returned his eyes to the pages. The cheeps were starting to cause trouble. Exciting stuff.

“I might have read it.”

“That you might,” Harry said and continued reading. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, I got halfway through it,” Miss Payne said. “I just don’t see why anyone would want to live in the mountains with only animals as company. It’s absurd.”

“Well,” Harry said, and kept his eyes down, “there’s no denying some companies are better than others.” Personally, he would have preferred a breed of cheeps rather than the one he was in right now. 

“Exactly my point,” Miss Payne said. “There is nothing more pleasant than being in the company of sophisticated people.” 

“Precisely.” Harry cleared his throat. “It’s not like you’d want to be in a,” he raised his head and looked at Mr Tomlinson pointedly, “ _gathering of savages._ ”

If Mr Tomlinson remembered his own words, he showed no signs of it. Or maybe he just didn’t care. “Certainly not. I must agree with Miss Payne on this one.”

Harry rolled his eyes whereas Miss Payne preened under the attention. 

“Absolutely,” she said. “Besides, I never have the time to finish a book, I’m always too busy.”

 _She says while playing a game of cards._ Harry sighed. 

“Which, of course,” she said and turned to face Harry, “is not to say that you don’t also have important things to do.”

Harry pressed his lips together. _Of course not._ “No, why would I think that?” 

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” She smiled. “I’m certain you have plenty of choirs you must do at your household. Maybe you also have a farm.”

“Not really.”

“Wasn’t it your father,” Mr Tomlinson said, “who said he wanted an elephant for your garden?” 

All guests at the table started laughing. Harry’s cheeks heated up. He shot a deadly look at Mr Tomlinson. The only one who wasn’t laughing. He was probably laughing on the inside. And, well. _Thank you for bringing that up._

“My father has many faults,” Harry said, “but a lack of imagination is not one of them.” 

“Certainly not,” Mr Payne said, still grinning. “I think it sounds like a great idea!” 

Miss Payne sighed exasperatedly, and looked at him sternly. “But you think everything sounds like a great idea!”

Mr Payne went uncharacteristically quiet. His mouth was tilted down. “Yes, but.” No continuation. Just a ‘but’.

Harry frowned at Mr Payne’s sudden lack of humour. It wasn’t like him. 

“I agree with Miss Payne on this one as well,” Mr Tomlinson said, and Harry sighed. They just agreed with each other on everything. How lovely. “You do get too enthusiastic too easily.”

Mr Payne remained quiet, still looking upset, and Harry had to say something. This was unfair. Nick was enthusiastic about going into study. Being thrilled about something was not a bad thing. “Is being enthusiastic really the worst thing a person can be, though?”

Mr Tomlinson turned to look at him. “I never said that.” 

“Then what _are_ you saying?” Harry demanded. 

“I’m saying that some things should be thought about carefully and reasonably, and shouldn’t be jumped into too hastily, because of a spontaneous idea.”

Harry snorted. _The expert has spoken._ “Alright, then. I shall take ten minutes wondering about whether or not I should I should continue reading this book because I shouldn’t jump into it too hastily, because I’m excited about it. It could be misleading me.” Harry put the book down next to him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Let us all drown our enthusiasm, and be miserable instead. Let us never enjoy anything ever again. Perfect.”

The room went dead quiet. The only sound Harry could hear was his own rapid breathing. Once it had slowed down he wondered if he might have taken it a bit too far. Maybe his father had been right when he’d told him not to scare Mr Payne away. There are more ways of being scary than putting spiders into people’s shoes. 

The silence was disturbed by Miss Payne laughing. It sounded fake and hollow. “Oh, my. Mr Styles has read so many books he has started to read things into real life, as well.”

Harry put a hand on his knee and turned to face her. “You’re mistaken. I do not read much at all. As you said yourself, I’m too busy with house choirs, like taking care of our non-existent farm.”

Miss Payne blinked. “Um.” 

“And as you said, there is nothing better than a sophisticated company, but I’m afraid I’m tired and therefore, I will go to bed.” Harry stood up. “I wish you all a good evening, and I will see you in the morning.”

No one said anything as he walked out of the room. 

 

\--

 

When Zayn finally announced he was feeling well enough to go home, there were fireworks going on inside of Harry’s head. 

On the day of their leaving, they walked down the staircase together, Mr Payne next to them. 

“I really am sorry for the inconvenience. I do hope I wasn’t too much of a bother,” Zayn said. 

“Oh, none at all,” Mr Payne said. “You’re always welcome here when you’re sick.” He then seemed to think better of it. “No, I mean, you’re always welcome here. You don’t have to be sick. But you can come here when you’re sick, too, of course. But it’s naturally better if you’re healthy. I mean, for your wellbeing. You’re always welcome either way.”

So… from what Harry could gather, Mr Payne hated Zayn and never wanted to see him in his home or anywhere else ever again. It was a good thing he spoke so clearly.

When they got out of the house, the air was fresh and felt liberating. Harry wanted to jump around and do swirls and rejoice in his new freedom. He was more excited than he had been in a long time. 

Miss Payne and Mr Tomlinson were already outside, talking in quiet voices. When they noticed they were not alone anymore, they stopped. Harry wanted to walk up to them and assure them that they may by all means continue their discussion of what tea was the most pleasing, or what colour their new carpet should be. Or the flower arrangement to their future wedding. Do not let us disturb. 

Harry and Zayn walked to their carriage. When they were in front of it, Mr Payne took Zayn’s hand and helped him on board. They then stopped to have a chat. It was the same old. 

“I’m so grateful-“

“No, you are always –“

“Please know that –“

“No, you should know –“

Disgusting. 

Harry decided to enter the other way, and walked around it. He was just about to step on board when – 

“Please. Allow me.”

Mr Tomlinson stood in front of him, offering his hand. Harry considered at it. It was a bit funny, in a way, because Mr Tomlinson really was a walking contradiction. A contradiction in the oddest, most questioning way that Harry couldn’t understand. Because he, himself, was so tough and great in ways, like an iron wall impossible to penetrate. Impossible to see through, to argue with, to even try to understand, and which touch should be ice cold and repulsing. But at the same time, when Harry grabbed his hand, small and gentle, it felt like silk; soft and soothing at the same time. Mr Tomlinson squeezed his fingers, applying just a small force, in a way that Harry wasn’t sure if he had only imagined it. Either way, Harry couldn’t have imagined the way his fingers lightly warmed up. 

He entered the carriage and let go of his hand. Harry looked down, and they shared a look but neither one said anything. Harry waited for him to speak, but he only looked at him, his expression uncharacteristically soft, as if he’d just woken up from a dream and hadn’t found out where, or who he was yet. His eyes held a question and Harry wanted to say, ‘what?’ but nothing came out. It seemed to go on for an eternity. 

When Mr Tomlinson finally turned around, Harry followed his retrieving back with his eyes. He had only been walking for some meters when he shook his right hand in a jerking motion as if he was holding onto something and needed it to disappear. Harry frowned. But Mr Tomlinson was probably just as relieved to have Harry gone, as Harry was to leave. Only logical explanation. 

Harry looked away.

When the carriage started rolling, Harry let go of a breath he felt like he’d been holding for ages. 

“I am excited about going home,” Zayn said. “I hope our family hasn’t destroyed our home in our absence.”

Harry laughed quietly. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

“Me neither,” Zayn replied, grinning. 

Smiling, Harry looked out of the window and watched the landscape fly by. Destroyed home or not, he was eager to get back to it. To the familiar scent of dried oak, beds which were maybe a bit too small and people who didn’t look at you with expectations you could never fulfil. 

Harry felt as if he’d been walking on scorching coal these past few days, never able to relax or properly breathe. Constantly on the edge, waiting for something or someone to attack.

Harry shook away the feeling. He needed it to disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i’m moving this wednesday so the next chapter might be a bit delayed, but i’ll try to get it done as soon as possible! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry about the delay but my life has been a bit of a mess lately.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for all of the lovely feedback! You are all very wonderful. <3

When Anne announced they had received a letter, no one was surprised, expecting another invitation to a ball, or an invitation for Zayn specifically to Netherfield.

“Not this time,” Anne said. “This time, it is from one of my cousins.”

Harry groaned. Not another cousin. 

“One we have never met before. It is from Miss Swift.”

Miss Swift? That did ring a bell. 

“The owner to this house.”

Oh. _That cousin._

There was a mutual groaning and grumbling going around the table. This piece of information was not particularly pleasing to anyone. 

“She has written a letter. I can read it to you.” Anne cleared her throat. 

 

_“Dear Mrs Styles,_

_We were both young when I first saw you._

_I close my eyes and the flashback starts:_

_I'm standing there on a balcony in summer air._

_See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns._

_See you make your way through the crowd_

_Once upon a time a few mistakes ago_

_I was in your sights, you got me alone_

_You found me, you found me, you found me_

_I guess you didn't care, and I guess I liked that_

_And when I fell hard you took a step back_

_Without me, without me, without me_

_'Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in_

_So shame on me now_

_Ooh, we called it off again last night_

_But ooh, this time I'm telling you, I'm telling you_

_I'm so glad you made time to see me._

_How's life? Tell me how's your family?_

_I haven't seen them in a while. (Never, ever, ever)_

_I’ve been good, busier than ever,_

_Let’s small talk, work and the weather,_

_You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me_

_I will come this fortnight,_

_Miss Taylor Swift”_

 

Harry blinked. Um. Right. Well, he definitively would have remembered this cousin. 

“What was that about?” Niall asked. 

Simon gasped loudly. “Is she your former lover? Have you had an affair with her?”

Anne’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?” 

“Admit it!” Simon exclaimed. 

Niall laughed. “It did sound like it, mother.” 

“I agree,” Josh said.

Harry thought about it for a second. “It actually did.”

“Just a little bit,” Zayn added. 

“Would be nothing wrong with it if you had,” Harry said. Would have explained why they’d never heard of her before this. 

“Nothing wrong?” Anne repeated. She still looked exasperated. “Nothing wrong? I’m twice her age! She was an infant when I met her! I’m surprised she even remembers. And this, I don’t know, eloquently.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked. “Maybe a bit wrong then.”

“A little bit,” Anne agreed. 

“Also, she’s your cousin,” Niall added. 

“Let’s drop this,” Anne deadpanned. “I think what Miss Swift is trying to say is that she is arriving today. This evening. So, you all know what that means.”

The Styles family shared a look. A sad one. 

“Time to clean the house.”

 

\--

 

That evening, the house was about as shiny as it could be. Which wasn’t especially shiny but still. It was slightly less… brownish. Maybe you’d have noticed it if you used a magnifying glass. But, whatever. They were all situated in the living room when they heard a carriage rolling outside. 

“That must be Miss Swift,” Anne said. “Everyone up. We better give her a proper welcome.”

Harry got up along with his brothers. A proper welcome. He’d rather not. But it’s not as if he had something to say in the matter. The family exited the house and lined up along the doorstep, watching as a carriage arrived. When it’d stopped, a woman about Harry’s age, maybe some years older, stepped out of it. She had long blonde hair, and had a brown dress on. 

“Family Styles!” She exclaimed happily as she stepped out, but took one wrong step and tripped and fell down on the ground gracelessly. 

Harry winced. 

Anne rushed forward and put a hand around her arm. “My dear, are you alright?” 

“Perfectly fine,” she replied and stood up quickly, with Anne’s hand helping her up. She started wiping her dress from dirt. She looked at the family grinning. “Tip of the day; always wear brown dresses - that way it won’t be as obvious if they’re dirty!” Miss Swift burst out laughing and looked out at the family, expecting them to join them. 

Silence.

Harry gave her a hesitant smile. 

Anne laughed hollowly. “We’ll be sure to remember that. Here, come on in. You must be exhausted after the long journey, and we have dinner ready.”

“You have food?” Miss Swift asked, her eyebrows shooting up. “You should have told me that before I told my rider to shoot a bunny on the way over!” Silence. Everyone stared at her. “I’m joking!” She exclaimed. “Of course I knew you’d have food! What do you take me for?” She started laughing hysterically. 

Harry scratched the back of his neck. Um.

Next to him, Niall let out a low chuckle, with a forced smile on his face. They shared a look. His mouth was laughing but his eyes were screaming _what’s going on._ Harry shrugged. _Cousins._

“Right,” Anne said. “Fancy that. Let’s just go inside.”

Anne led Miss Swift into the house, whereas the others stayed outside for a bit. 

“What was that?” Niall asked. 

“She was probably just nervous,” Zayn said. “Don’t be mean.”

“Well, I liked her,” Simon declared and walked into the house, leaving his four sons outside. 

“I liked her too,” Niall said. “Sort of. She was just a bit curious.”

“I say we go inside and get to know her better,” Harry suggested. 

“Sure,” Niall said. 

They walked into the house, and into the dining room where Miss Swift and their parents already sat. 

“You have a beautiful home,” Miss Swift said, her eyes taking in the walls and the ceiling. She sounded sincere. “It’s a shame that,” she gave them a look, “you know.”

That it’s actually kind of your house? We know. 

Harry sat down in front of her. 

“It is unfortunate,” Anne agreed. 

“However, I am certain it is fixable somehow.” Miss Swift beamed effortlessly. 

“Let’s hope,” Anne said. 

“So, Miss Swift,” Simon said, “tell us about yourself.”

“Well, there’s not much to say,” she said, shrugging. “I’m a writer.”

“You’re a writer?” Harry asked, surprised. The way she said it, so nonchalantly, was a bit odd. If Harry was one, or had any special talent, really, he’d have bragged about it all the time. 

“What do you write?” Zayn asked. 

“Poems,” she told them. “Love poems.”

“Love poems?” Simon asked. “I didn’t know you were married.”

“I’m not,” she said. “It’s just me on my own. But I want to.” Her smile grew. “Marry, that is.”

Anne snorted. “Why? You’re rich.”

“Yes, well,” Miss Swift gave her a look, “money can’t buy everything.”

“Close enough, though,” Anne said. 

“Guess that depends on how you look at it,” Miss Swift said. 

Anne shrugged. “Let’s eat.” 

In front of them were a homemade potato soup with bread. 

“Can we read anything you’ve written?” Zayn asked. 

“I haven’t brought anything with me,” Miss Swift replied. “But I sometimes quote something when I’m speaking. I can’t even help it.” 

“Right,” Zayn said. 

“So,” Harry said, “any specific reason you want to get married?” 

“Plenty,” Miss Swift said. “Company, friendship, love. Why wouldn’t you want to get married?” 

“So, you’re looking for a partner then?” Harry asked. 

“One could say that,” she admitted, a bit sheepish.

“Could one say,” Simon said, his voice wistful, “that you’re looking for one in the near future?”

Harry sighed. After living with his father for twenty years, he could basically teach Matchmaking 101. He knew exactly what his father was trying to pull. 

“Yes,” Miss Swift confirmed. “In the very near future.”

“Oh,” Simon said. He smiled. “Well, I’m sure we can find someone perfect for you.”

Simon shot Harry a pointing look. Harry rolled his eyes. 

“It would be wonderful, being married,” Miss Swift said. 

Anne coughed. 

“It’s the greatest pleasure on earth,” Simon said. “Beats nothing.”

“Jesus,” Niall muttered, as he poured soup into his bowl. 

“How about,” Simon said, “our four sons take you on a trip into town tomorrow? Just you young people. Wouldn’t want us old interrupting.”

“That sounds great!” Miss Swift looked over the table, beaming and excited. 

“We’d be happy to,” Zayn said. 

Simon shot Harry another look. Ultimately, he sighed, and his voice was flat. “Great.”

 

\--

 

“So, I live alone in my house. But I do have a cat! Mustn’t forget the cat. My cat’s name is Richard. Do you like cats, Harry?”

They were walking along the main road, arm in arm. “Yeah, I like cats. They’re cute.”

“They are, aren’t they?” Miss Swift agreed. “The cutest little things. I want twenty cats when I’m older.” She waited one second until she burst out laughing. “I’m joking! Of course I don’t want twenty cats, what do you take me for?” 

Harry chuckled quietly. “I don’t know.”

“I want children, too. Do you like children, Harry?” 

“Um, yeah, I like children. They’re cute.”

“Me too! They’re so cute!”

“Yeah, adorable.”

Silence.

The wind was gentle. 

“It was a bit funny how none of your brothers could come along,” Miss Swift said, giving him a small smile. “That it’s just the two of us.”

“Yeah,” Harry muttered. How all of them either were 'sick', 'busy', or 'out of the house'. 'Out of the house' meaning hiding in the closet or under a table. Harry was going to kill his father. “Funny.”

They continued their walk into town, Taylor rambling on about her cat and her house and whatever else she could think of. Harry practised his humming and nodding abilities. Must have been pretty good because she never noticed his lack of actual words. 

“I’m quite excited about the ball tomorrow,” Miss Swift said. “Did you know I write songs, too? Maybe I could perform.”

“You do?” Harry asked. “That’s quite impressive.”

“Thank you.” She grinned. “I hope you will like them.”

“I’m sure I will.”

She giggled and told him a story of a duck she met last week. So, apparently, she was also an animal lover. 

Harry looked up at the trees and wished he had the same life energy, and general positivity, that Miss Swift had. 

 

\--

 

“Are you excited?” Miss Swift asked. She wasn’t wearing her brown dress today, saying she’d take the risk of not falling into a pile of dirt. Harry had assured her that the floors were clean. 

“Yes, very,” Harry replied. 

Together, they entered the crowded building.

“What a beautiful room,” Miss Swift noted. “I want to write a song describing every line, sweep of colour and burst of light. It truly is a work of splendid architecture. Wonderful. Or should I say,” she smirked, “roomderful.”

Harry actually laughed at that one. “Yeah, exactly. Seems like a good way to spend your time.”

“I think so, too.”

They walked into the great hall, until someone spoke behind them. 

“Harry!”

Harry turned around and spotted a familiar face. “Nick! How are you?” 

Nick walked towards him, wearing his officers clothing, beaming. “I’m good.”

“I’m surprised to see you here.”

Nick laughed. “I’m surprised to be here. But all of my co-workers are here as well, so it’d be a bit strange if I wasn’t.”

“Do you know each other?” Miss Swift asked. 

“Yeah,” Nick said. “How can you tell?”

Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Something gave you away,” Miss Swift replied. She offered her hand. “My name’s Miss Taylor Swift, I am Harry’s date this evening.”

_His date?_

“His date?” Nick asked and shook her hand. “Look at that. My name’s Nicholas Grimshaw, I’m Harry’s friend.”

“Nice meeting you,” Miss Swift said. “Now, if you’ll excuse us.” 

Miss Swift dragged Harry along with her, and Harry gave Nick a small wave and an apologetic smile. 

“I do love dancing,” Miss Swift said as they walked out onto the dance floor. “Nothing beats music.”

“Music’s great, yeah,” Harry said. 

“Do you like dancing, Harry?” 

“Yeah, um, dancing’s alright, I guess.”

“Lovely.” They stopped and Miss Swift smiled, the music started playing and they started moving their feet. 

“Do you dance often?” She asked. 

“Um,” Harry said, “well, no? Like only when asked, I suppose. I don’t exactly practice my moves at home alone.”

Miss Swift laughed. “You’re funny.” She smiled. “Do you want to know something?”

“Sure.”

“I do. Practise my moves at home, that is.”

Harry observed her for a moment. “You can’t tell.”

Instantly, Harry was a bit worried she’d be offended, but she burst out into laughter and Harry joined her. “I know,” she admitted.

When the song was over, Harry felt someone tapping his shoulder. He turned around.

“May I have the next dance?” Nick asked, standing behind him. 

Miss Swift pressed her lips together, and her eyes flickered between Harry and Nick. “Sure,” she said eventually, but didn’t sound particularly excited. 

When she’d left, Nick stepped in front of him. “So, who’s she?”

“My mother’s cousin, and the owner of our house,” Harry told him. 

“Oh,” Nick said. “I see. And are you getting along?” 

Harry shrugged. “I guess. She’s pretty sweet in her own way.”

“I understand,” Nick said. 

“So, how come you got invited here today?” 

“I wouldn’t say I was invited, as much as I sneaked in,” Nick admitted, winking. 

“Right.” Harry laughed. “I see.”

“Besides,” Nick said, “don’t look but,” he lowered his voice, “you know who has been watching us since I got to you, and he doesn’t look too pleased.”

Harry chuckled. “No, I can imagine.”

“I say,” Nick said and stepped closer, so he could whisper in Harry’s ear, “that we dance as intimately as we can, just to anger him.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Um. Really, you think?”

“Yeah,” Nick said, remaining close. “Why not?” 

“Just don’t see what good that will do with anything,” Harry said. 

“Fine,” Nick said, and took a step back. 

“Yeah,” Harry said, weirdly relieved by his distance. 

Nick removed his hands. “I mean, if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, and couldn’t help the uncomfortable feeling curling in his stomach. 

Nick rolled his eyes, and Harry didn’t really know what to do until someone cleared its throat loudly. 

Harry turned around and saw Mr Tomlinson standing there. Surprise surprise. 

“Hello there,” Nick said. 

“Hi,” Mr Tomlinson said shortly, before turning to Harry. “May I?” He said, but waited for no answer before grabbing Harry’s hand and dragging him away. 

They stopped some meters away. Mr Tomlinson let go of Harry’s hand.

“I can see that you’ve become good friends with Mr Grimshaw,” he said. 

“I can see that you’ve noticed,” Harry replied. 

“Hard not to, the way you two were acting,” Mr Tomlinson hissed. 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Are you jealous?” No, couldn’t be. Why would he?

“No, of course not,” he huffed. “Why would I be jealous?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Never mind.”

“Really, I just wanted to warn you,” he said, completely serious.

“Warn me?” Harry repeated. “Excuse me? From what?” 

“I don’t think Mr Grimshaw is who he’s telling you he is.” Mr Tomlinson gave him a pointing look, still as serious.

“Wait,” Harry pondered this. He was silent for a moment, while Mr Tomlinson waited. “So, you’re telling me,” Harry looked at him, “that he isn’t the prince of France, here on a mission to spy on our queen in disguise of a British officer?” Harry shook his head. “Yeah, I was wondering why he didn’t know any French apart from “oui” and “bonjour”. Makes sense now, thank you for telling me.”

Mr Tomlinson sighed. “Do you talk to everyone like that?” 

“Nah, not everyone.” Harry shrugged. “Not royalties. Maybe that’s why monsieur Nick and I got along so well. But now that you’ve told me that our entire relationship is a lie,” Harry shook his head, “I don’t even know anymore. Who is he? Who am I? Who are you? I don’t know.”

Mr Tomlinson stared at him. “Have you been drinking?” 

“Only water,” Harry replied. “This is just my personality.”

“Right,” Mr Tomlinson said. “Lovely.”

“Lovely, indeed,” Harry said. “Look, this has been great and I appreciate the warning, I will write to the queen immediately telling her that it was all a false alarm, and that I have trustworthy sources backing it up. Now I bid you farewell, Mr Tomlinson, if –“ Harry narrowed his eyes, “that even is your real name.”

Mr Tomlinson raised his eyebrows. “What are you even talking –“

“Au revoir,” Harry interrupted as he turned around, walking away. 

He’d been walking for only some meters, feeling smug when suddenly someone appeared in front of him. 

“Hello!” Miss Swift chipped. 

“Oh, hi,” Harry said, stopping abruptly in his tracks. 

“You having fun?” She asked. Before he could answer, she took a step closer and examined his face. “You have this expression on your face as if you just won the lottery or something.”

“No, I don’t,” Harry huffed. 

“Yes, you do!” She insisted. “It’s like you’re trying not to smile, but I can see that you’re celebrating on the inside.”

Harry squirmed. “What do you know? That’s not at all accurate.”

“It is,” she said, “I don’t know why you’re denying it. But okay.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you want something?” He muttered. 

“Yeah!” She squeaked. “I want you to socialize with me, seeing as you are my date.” She took his hand. “Come along.”

They walked into a great hall where people were sitting around a table, eating and talking. There was a strong smell of wine and salt.

“There’s a piano up there,” Miss Swift said. “Can you play? You could play and I could sing. Dream team.”

“I can’t play well at all,” Harry told her. “I’d weigh you down.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, but quickly added, “But of course, I don’t want to inconvenience you, so I suppose I’ll have to do it on my own, then.”

Well, that was easy. “Alright. So are you going to go up there now, or?”

“Soon. But, look!” She exclaimed. “There’s the gentleman you were talking to just now. You should introduce us - I want to get to know as many people as possible.”

Harry stomach curled. “No, I really don’t think –“

“Don’t be silly,” she said and grabbed his hand and dragged him with her. “Come along.”

Mr Tomlinson stood talking no an unknown man, which was a change of scenery from him talking to Miss Payne. 

Miss Swift stopped behind him and cleared her throat. There was no response. She cleared her throat again. 

This time, Mr Tomlinson turned around, his expression quizzical. “Yes?”

“Hello. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Miss Swift said and extended her hand. “My name is Miss Taylor Swift, I’m Harry’s date.”

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes flickered between Miss Swift and Harry, never taking her hand. “Harry’s date?” He asked. 

“Yes, his date,” she said. 

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes stopped on her. “And you’re telling me this, why?” 

Miss Swift blinked. 

Harry huffed and took a step forward. “She’s telling you because she’s being pleasant and making conversation. It is what people do.”

Mr Tomlinson looked at him. “Is it?” 

“It is.” Harry turned to Miss Swift. “How about that song now? I’m longing for some good music.”

She seemed stunned for a second, before nodding. “Yes, of course.”

Mr Tomlinson and Harry watched as she walked up on the podium.

“She’s a performer?” Mr Tomlinson asked, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah.” 

“She’s any good?”

“Wouldn’t know. Haven’t heard her yet.”

“She plays the piano?” 

“Obviously.”

“Does she write her own songs?”

“I think there’s something to be said about being too analytic of someone else’s performance,” Harry said. “And I don’t think it’s a good thing.”

Mr Tomlinson was silent for a moment. “Okay.” 

Harry turned to face him. “She’s very musical and creative. Obviously, she has a good character. Wouldn’t you agree?” Harry raised an eyebrow. 

Mr Tomlinson opened his mouth. “What are you even –“

Harry walked away. 

He stopped at one table and sat down on a chair, watching as Miss Swift prepared herself for the performance. Adjusting herself in her seat, and feeling the tangents under her fingers.

When she seemed to be in the right spirit, she cleared her throat and looked out over the audience. “Hi. I hope you’re all having a wonderful evening. I’d like to dedicate this song to someone very special.” Her smile grew and her eyes glistered. “Someone with eyes green and curly hair. You know who you are. And, also, you’re very lovely.”

Harry squirmed as people turned around to watch him, obviously surprised by her declaration. Not knowing how to react, Harry only shrugged, _Well, I am pretty lovely._ However, they had only known each other for three days. It’s not as if Harry had any specific commitment issues, per say, but this seemed to be going a bit too fast. 

Miss Swift started singing. 

 

_"We were both young when I first saw you._

_I close my eyes and the flashback starts:_

_I'm standing there on a balcony in summer air._

_See the lights, see the party, the ball gowns._

_See you make your way through the crowd_

_And say, "Hello,"_

_Little did I know..._

_That you were Harry, you were throwing pebbles,_

_And my daddy said, "Stay away from Taylor"_

_And I was crying on the staircase_

_Begging you, "Please don't go"_

_And I said..._

_Harry, take me somewhere we can be alone._

_I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run._

_You'll be the prince and I'll be the princess,_

_It's a love story, baby, just say, 'Yes.'"_

 

Harry removed his eyes from her and looked out over the table. Just say yes? There is no 'just' in accepting another person’s hand in marriage. 

He caught his father’s eyes and he mouthed “marry her” at him. Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn’t really that simple. Solving a rubrics cube would be simpler.

When the song was over, Taylor walked away from the piano to speak with some admirers who had obviously enjoyed her performance. 

Harry heard his father speak. 

“Ah, yes. Taylor and Harry have been getting along splendidly,” he said. Again, they had known each other for three days. _Three days._ “Almost as well as Zayn and Mr Payne. They are very much in love. It is obvious to whoever is watching. I am certain a marriage will occur soon. I couldn’t have planned this better if I had tried.”

Harry didn’t really like his father speaking about it as if it had all been confirmed. That’d do nothing but spread rumours and add unnecessary pressure. But everyone else of course seemed more than eager to hear more about their relationship, and Simon seemed ever more eager to tell them, not sparing any details whatsoever. 

When Harry couldn’t stand listening anymore, he got up and planned on leaving the room to find Zayn, Greg, or anyone really. But he was, again, distracted. 

“Well, that was interesting.”

Harry sighed as he felt Miss Payne walking up to him. “Uh-huh.”

She stopped in front of him, grinning. “I did not know you were so deeply inflated with Miss Swift. I am deeply moved.”

She didn’t seem so moved. “You don’t seem so moved.”

“I am,” she said. “Truly, I am happy for you. If I had the time, I’d write a novel describing your affection to one another. And between you and me,” she gave him a knowing look, “I think you better accept.”

Harry pressed his lips together. “Do you.”

“Absolutely. I think that’d be good for you. Considering your, um,” she waved her hand around, “situation. And besides-“ she stopped to look at him. 

“Besides?” Harry asked. 

“Besides, I’ve been noticing you’ve been spending a lot of time with Mr Grimshaw.”

Surprise surprise. “Have you now.”

“Yes. And I was just wondering if you knew his background story.”

You mean the story of how he was deprived of all his money and couldn’t go after his dreams? “Yes, I am quite aware of it.”

“Huh,” she said. She looked at him thoughtfully. “Then you are not who I thought you were.”

“Really?” Harry asked. “Who did you think I was?” 

Miss Payne laughed. “Straight to the point, as always. I suppose I don’t have an answer for that.”

“Honesty will get you a long way,” Harry replied. 

“Indeed, it will,” Miss Payne said. “Something like you’re father. He seems very honest. It is almost as if he can predict the future and decided to share it all with us.”

Harry nodded. “He is nothing but giving.”

“I can tell,” she muttered, shooting a dirty look to the table. When she turned her attention back to Harry, she was smiling sweetly. “Well, I will leave you to it then. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“Thanks,” Harry mumbled as she walked away. 

Miss Swift caught on to him shortly after and he never got to spend any time with either Zayn or Greg. 

“What happened?” She asked when she saw him, her brows furrowed. 

“Huh?” Harry asked. “Nothing.”

“But you’re not smiling,” she said. “You don’t have your usual glow.”

“What do you mean?” 

“All I’m saying is that you’ve got a smile that could light up the whole town,” she put a hand to his cheek, “and I haven’t seen it I awhile, since she brought you down.”

“Oh,” Harry said, unable to think of anything else. ”Um.”

Miss Swift smiled, as if she could tell his discomfort. “Come. Let’s dance.”

They went to the dance floor. Miss Swift told him about a cat she was planning on getting. She was going to name it Esmeralda. All in all, it was an alright evening. 

 

\--

 

“What a perfect, wonderful, lovely, and all other good adjectives I can think of, evening,” Simon rambled on the next day, beaming. The family was sitting in living room, and sunshine lightened up the room through the windows. “It could almost go down in history.”

Anne stared down at her newspaper. “Right next to Columbus discovering America, I’m sure.”

“I won’t let your depressing behaviour weigh me down today,” Simon shot back, unaffected. “It was perfect and no one will tell me otherwise.”

“Alright.”

“Did you see Miss Swift’s performance? It was really good. You know, I have an eye for that sort of thing.”

“Speaking of,” Niall said, “where is she?” 

“She’s in the garden,” Anne said. 

“Which means –“ Simon said and looked Harry pointedly. He gestured his head toward the door. 

Harry got up. “Sure.”

He walked out of the house and out into the fresh air. It turned our she wasn’t in the garden, he noticed after a thorough look. He had been walking around the neighbourhood for about ten minutes when he found her in the park, sitting down on the grass and overlooking a small lake. 

Harry knocked on a tree. It hardly made a sound, but it’s the thought that matters. “Excuse me?” He said, announcing his presence. 

Miss Swift jumped slightly, before turning around and her face instantly lit up. “Oh. It’s you. Hi, Harry.” 

Harry smiled. “Can I sit down next to you?” 

“Yes, of course.”

Harry sat down on the patch next to her. “So, what are you up to?” 

“Thinking.”

“Gathering up thoughts you can write about later?” 

She chuckled. “Something like that.”

“What are you thinking about?” 

Her eyes were distant. “I don’t know. Everything, nothing.”

“What does that even mean?” 

“I don’t know, I’m just trying to sound deep.” She turned to face Harry. “Did I manage?” 

“Not really,” Harry said, honest. “But at the same you most likely did better than I would have. I probably only would have come up with ‘bananas’ or something.”

Miss Swift grinned. “Bananas can be deep.”

Harry shrugged. “I would describe them more as long and yellow.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” she said, before she went silent again, which wasn’t like her. 

Harry frowned. “Honestly, are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she said. “I just. I’m trying to gather up courage, I guess.” 

“Courage for what?” Harry asked, although a part of him already knew. 

She turned around and she parted her lips. Time stood still. She cleared her throat and took his hand in hers. “Harry Styles,” she said quietly, but loud enough to give Harry goose bumps. “I think there are one million and more ways to do this, and I don’t think either one would be appropriate or adequate, so I’m going to keep it simple. I have always dreamed of having someone to share my bed with, someone curled up beside me, sharing their warmth, all my life. I’ve dreamed about meeting this person, until the day I woke up to find, that what I have been looking for has been here the whole time.” Their eyes met and her eyes were wet. “Harry,” her voice cracked, “will you marry me?” 

Harry’s heart beat loudly in his chest. He took a deep breath. “Taylor,” he said slowly. 

“Yes?” 

“I think you’re making a mistake.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I think you’re in love with the idea of spending your life with someone. I think you’re in love with the idea of having someone to dedicate your songs to.” Harry squeezed her hand. “But I don’t think you’re in love with me.”

She blinked. “What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying I can’t accept.”

She averted her gaze. “Right.”

Harry instantly felt slightly panicky, watching her eyes get wetter. “Look, you don’t want to spend time with me voluntarily. You should be with someone extraordinary.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered. “I don't want extraodrinary. I just want ordinary. Someone to have dinner with. Someone to complain about the weather with. I just want someone to laugh at my jokes.”

“That’s the thing, babe,” Harry said and squeezed her hand again. “I wouldn’t have laughed.”

“I guess,” Taylor whispered. 

They sat in silence for what must have been thirty minutes, or longer. 

“I think we should head back,” Harry said, finally. There wasn't really anything else left to do.

“Okay,” Miss Swift said, and they walked in silence back to the house. The sun wasn't shining anymore.

When they got in, the first thing Miss Swift said was, “I think I’m going home.” 

Miraculously, Simon heard that and instantly was in the room. “Wait. You’re doing what?” 

“I’m going home,” she repeated, her voice settled but tired.

“What? Why?” Simon turned to Harry. “What did you do?”

“He didn’t do anything,” Miss Swift said. 

“Well. Then what did you not do?” He demanded, still looking at Harry. 

“It’s nothing,” Miss Swift mumbled. “I’m going to get my suitcase.”

When she walked up the stairs, Harry was painfully aware of Simon’s presence and his eyes on him. It felt like the room was burning. 

Harry didn’t want to talk about it. But he didn't not want to talk about it either.

“Are you going to say anything?” Harry asked eventually. 

Simon narrowed his eyes. “I can’t even believe you,” he whispered.

Harry bit his lip. “No?” 

“You could have changed everything, and yet, you – “ Simon shook his head, and looked away.

Harry waited for him to continue that sentence, but nothing happened. Instead, he stood there with a lump in his throat, and an uncertain feeling in his gut. The air was suspended. The only thing worse than screaming was silence. 

When Miss Swift finally came downstairs again, there was an awkward, uncomfortable moment. 

“Right, well,” she said. “Take care.”

“You too,” Harry said. “And, um, god luck with Esmeralda.”

“Esmeralda?” Simon asked. “Who’s that?” 

“Her future cat,” Harry replied. 

“Right.”

Miss Swift slowly walked to the door. She opened it and stepped out. “Good bye,” she said.

“Bye,” Harry said. 

The door closed.

Harry blinked. A clock was ticking in the background. 

“You can be quite selfish, you know that?” Simon asked. 

Harry pressed his lips together. He didn’t say anything. 

Simon walked away. His steps echoed through the house. 

Harry stared at the door and wished he could just walk out and leave as well.

 

\--

 

The next morning, when Harry walked downstairs for breakfast, he was feeling quite grumpy and unenthusiastic. Like he could go back to bed again. And stay in it for a couple of months.

“No letter today?” He muttered as he sat down on a chair. 

“Actually,” Anne said, “we have another one from Netherfield.”

“Finally some good news!” Simon exclaimed. He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes, as if he’d been up the entire night. He probably had. Harry knew that feeling. “God knows I need it after -” he shot Harry a look and coughed. 

Harry rolled his eyes. 

“What does the letter say?” Zayn asked. 

“I don’t know, haven’t opened it yet,” Anne said. She took it and ripped it open. Her eyes gazed over the lines, and her brows furrowed. 

“Well?” Simon asked, impatient. 

Anne slowly looked up from the letter, but said nothing. Something dark began to curl inside of Harry’s stomach. 

Zayn reached out and took the letter from his mother’s hand. He quickly read through it. Harry watched him. When finished, he slammed the letter onto the table, before standing up and storming away. Which was very uncharacteristic of him. The rest of the family sat in silence, everyone probably thinking the same thing. The clock was ticking in the background. 

By now, Harry definitely had a bad feeling about this. He reached out to take the letter in front of him. He read through it, and it was a like a grey cloud finally settled inside of him. He gently put the envelope down on the table.

“What does it say?” Niall asked. 

Harry took a deep breath. “It says that they are leaving.” He met his brother's blue questioning eyes. “And they are not coming back.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Why do they say that thing about elephants?”

Harry frowned and met his younger brothers blue eyes. “Sorry, what thing about elephants?” 

“That expression, you know, that elephants have good memory? How do they know that?” Niall paused a bit for effect. “Same thing about goldfishes – how do they know they have good memory?” 

Harry just shook his head. He didn’t have it in him to discuss the memory of animals right now. “What are you on about?” 

Niall raised his hands. “Just trying to ease the tension, sorry.”

“Don’t,” Simons hissed. 

Niall sighed. “Fine.”

Harry sighed as well, feeling tired suddenly. Something which seemed to be quite recurrent. It was a bit tricky for him to describe how he felt lately. It was as if he’d been robbed of something; of something that had never been his in the first place. Like he was going somewhere but had lost his map.

They were sitting in the living room, and there was a dull silence filling the room. 

Zayn was quiet. Zayn was usually quiet, it was actually a quite distinctive part of his personality, but this time it was different. He wasn’t quiet; he was _quiet._ Detached. Not present. Not excessively sad, just distant. Harry would ask him how he was and he’d always get a ‘fine’. Never ‘good’, ‘okay, ‘bad’ – always ‘fine’. Harry hated the word ‘fine’. People were hardly ever ‘fine’. ‘Fine’ was just a word used to reassure people that they were not out of control bad or awful. (“How are you?” “Not on the break of dying.” “So, in other words you’re fine.” “Yeah, I’m fine.”) Harry just felt like there was more to human emotions than just ‘fine’. _Okay_ , so now Harry had begun developing an irrational hate for a harmless word. That’s great. Perfectly healthy. Harry desperately needed a hobby; some way to clear his mind. 

Distraction came two weeks later in the form of two relatives, Lou and Tom Teasdale. It’s great that Harry’s only hobby was his family. Makes activities pretty limited. Okay, he did cooking and gardening as well. And he should work on his piano skills. 

Whereas Zayn was quiet, Simon was beyond loud. Even when he wasn’t talking, he was loud. His entire presence screamed. His eyes yelled, “this is your fault”, his fingers clenching the sofa shouted, “I could kill you with the force of this fist”, and his mouth hissed, “I’m fine.” His heavy breathing filled the room with the sound of hate, distaste and frustration. 

Tom and Lou entered the house. 

Lou looked around, her eyes curious. She sniffed. “There seems to be some sort of smell in here.”

The smell of disappointment, crushed dreams and rotten food. “That’s strange because we just aired this room,” Harry said. 

Lou hummed. “Strange. And are you all alright?” 

“We are all fine,” Simon assured her. 

“Right,” Lou said. “You too, Zayn? You seem a bit distant.”

Zayn’s eyes slowly moved away from the window to her. He shrugged. “I’m fine.”

Harry hated the word _fine_. “And as for me, I’d say I’m accurately dehydrated, not too hungry, not too full, not too cold and not too hot. Basically, just alright. Like, existing. Mellow, like a lake.”

Simon sighed exasperatedly. “So, you’re fine. God, do you have to be so pretentious?” 

Harry gave him a firm look. “I am not fine. In fact, I’m experiencing a slight annoyance at the moment, close to irritation.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Jesus.”

Tom cleared his throat. “Did we come at a bad time?” 

“No!” Simon and Harry exclaimed simultaneously. 

“Okay,” Tom said, still awkward. 

Niall coughed. “A bit of a bad time.”

“Right,” Tom said. 

“Where is Anne?” Lou asked. 

“She’s out,” Harry said. He didn’t even know where she was, but “out” seemed vague enough. Could be anywhere, just as ‘fine’ could be any emotion. Harry didn’t know why humans were drawn to unspecific words. 

Anne came back later that evening, but didn’t do much to ease the tense feeling in the house. Lou and Tom didn’t seem to mind much, however, and stayed. 

The two of them and Harry were out for a walk the next weekend. 

“Lovely weather,” Lou said, cheerily. 

“Yeah,” Harry said. It was slightly cloudy, but the sun poured through the clouds.

“But, really, Harry, how are you holding up?” She asked, concern obvious. “You’re usually more radiant.”

“Well, um,” Harry pondered, “I’m alright, I suppose. Just a bit tired.”

“I think you need a break,” Lou said. 

“A break?” Harry repeated. “You can’t take a break from life, is the thing. Unless maybe if you go into coma, but that’s not something I’m particularly interested in.”

Lou sighed. “Must you always be so melodramatic? I’m not going to punch your head into a wall so you fall into coma. I was more thinking you could go with us on a trip. Live with us for a while.”

“Live with you?” Harry raised an eyebrow. “Really?” 

“Sure. Why not?” 

“Well.” Harry thought about it, and the answer was blatantly obvious. “It would be pretty fantastic, actually.”

Lou grinned. “Then it’s settled.”

 

—

 

Harry enjoyed their first week away, apart from when Lou and Tom decided to get disgustingly couply together. Harry loved them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear how much they loved each other. Way to make him feel like a third wheel. It wasn’t until Lou suggested, “We should go visit Mrs Walters,” that someone else was brought into the equation. 

Harry didn’t have any objections, seeing as he had no idea who she was. He only knew Lou used to do her hair. But anyone who wasn’t involved in a romantic relationship with Lou and Tom was fine with Harry. 

It turned out she was a rich lady. When they got there, Harry was struck by how huge her mansion was. Nicely decorated, with impressive paintings decorating the walls and massive windows filling the rooms with light. The carpets were burgundy red or deep green, making the mansion almost royal-like, but at the same time homey and cosy. Harry couldn’t quite put a word to it. Maybe he should make one up. 

“I’m in here!” Came a shrill voice from a room next door. 

“Oh, right,” Lou said, in a hushed voice, as if she suddenly remembered something, “maybe she has some relatives over. She does sometimes.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Tom said. 

They walked in, and Harry almost choked on air. 

The odds of winning the lottery were 1/1000, but they still would have been more likely than what just happened. 

In front of him sat Mr Tomlinson, and by the look on his face, he was just as surprised as Harry that they were there at the same time. Maybe he was disappointed Harry had come here and ruined his family time. Harry would have apologised if he felt apologetic. But probably not even then.

Their eyes met for what felt like an hour. Harry couldn’t look away, glued to the spot. 

The others seemed to notice as well. “Do you know each other?” Mrs Walters asked. 

‘Yes,’ is what Harry thought. “Are you related?” Is what came out of his mouth. 

“No,” she replied. “He’s a friend of my nephew.”

“Mr Payne?” Harry asked. 

“No,” an unknown male voice said. Harry turned his head and saw a man, right in front of him. “Me.”

“I do have more than one friend, you know,” Mr Tomlinson said. 

“Yeah, Harry,” Tom said. “Don’t be rude.”

Harry huffed. “That’s not what I meant.”

The unknown man thankfully beamed and saved the situation. He extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Mr Irwin, nice to meet you.”

Harry shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, too.” He turned to face the lady. “And you must be Mrs Walters. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Harry Styles, am I right?” she asked. 

“Yes.”

“Then I’ve heard plenty about you as well.”

Harry frowned. “Really? You have?” 

“Yes,” she said, as if it was obvious. “About you and your family. But mostly about you.”

“Oh,” Harry said, cautious. “Um, what did you hear exactly?” 

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted. 

“Right, well,” Mr Tomlinson said and clasped his hands together. “When did you get here?” 

“One week ago,” Lou said. 

“One week ago?” he repeated, incredulous. “You’ve been here that long and this is the first time you’ve visited?” 

“Well,” Lou said and shared a look with her husband, “it didn’t occur to me until now?” 

“Even though you know how much I love getting my hair done?” Mrs Walters said.

“I know, I’m so sorry,” Lou apologised, sounding genuinely upset. “I should have thought about it sooner.”

“No worries. Don’t let it trouble your mind,” Mrs Walters said. She looked at Mr Tomlinson, smiling. “But you always think about what’s best for me, darling. Always so thoughtful.”

“Uh,” he said. “I mean – yes, of course. Always.”

She beamed. 

Later, when they were sitting at the dinner table, Harry’s initial shock began to waver off. Instead, he found himself enjoying himself more than he had in a long time. 

“Mph,” he said as he tasted the home cooked cottage pie, which was one of the best meals he had ever had. “This is delicious.”

“You like it?” Mrs Walters asked. 

“Love it,” Harry said. 

“I’m glad.”

“So, Harry,” Mr Irwin said, “tell us about yourself.”

Harry chuckled. “Do I have to? I mean, there’s not much to say.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mr Tomlinson said, almost offended. “There’s plenty to say.”

“Really?” Harry asked. “Like what?” 

Mr Tomlinson thought for a second. “Well, um. You’re not good at golfing.”

Harry barked a laughter. “There you have it, Mr Irwin. My name is Harry and I can’t golf, and that’s me in a nutshell.”

Mr Irwin grinned. 

“No, no, no,” Mr Tomlinson quickly said. “That’s not, - I mean.” He turned to Mr Irwin. “Harry has three brothers.“

“Huh.” He turned to Harry. “You do?” 

“’Harry, his three brothers and no golf clubs’ would be the name of my autobiography, yes,” Harry said, nodding. 

Mr Tomlinson snorted. “I don’t think it would be as much an autobiography as it would be a collection of your smart ass lines that you drop every now and then, and then you’d name the book ‘memorable quotes’.” 

_Ouch._ Harry laughed so hard it hurt. “That sounds like something Zayn would say.”

“Zayn?” Mr Irwin asked. “Who’s that?” 

“His older brother,” Mr Tomlinson told him. 

Harry was still laughing. “Maybe the book can be called ‘memorable quotes said to my brothers, while talking about golf.’”

Mr Tomlinson raised an eyebrow. “You talk about golf a lot?”

“Not exactly, but we do talk about things that bug me, and golf could be a metaphor for those things. Hence where the quotes get in.”

Mr Tomlinson nodded. “Right. I feel like this is a bulletproof idea.”

“Me too,” Harry said. “I’ll get right to it once I have enough material to fill an entire novel.”

“There’s a pen and paper upstairs,” Mr Tomlinson told him. “I think you’re good to go.”

“Already? You reckon?” 

“Definitively. If not, I’m positive you can just make something up.”

Harry cleared his throat. “It was a warm day in June and I was walking in a forest when I saw a tree soaking up sunlight. I turned to it and I said, ‘You know, for someone with that much energy, you sure do stand still a lot.’”

Mr Tomlinson groaned. “I genuinely hope that hasn’t happened.”

“No, but it could have.”

“Um,” Harry heard a female voice say. He turned his head and saw Lou frowning. “I’m confused. Why are we talking about Harry’s tree discussions?” 

Harry shrugged. “Mr Irwin wanted me to tell him about myself. I’m just trying to be honest.”

“Right,” she drawled. 

“So,” Mrs Walters said, “you have three brothers? Do you ever cook?” 

“Yes,” Harry said. “From time to time. I think it’s pretty fun.”

“That’s good. Mr Tomlinson here has four sisters, yet he never cooks.” She gave him a disapproving look. 

“I’ve never needed to cook,” he defended himself. 

“You wouldn’t have anyway,” Mr Irwin laughed. “I still haven’t forgotten that meal you made once.”

Mr Tomlinson frowned. “What meal?” 

“ _Exactly,_ ” He deadpanned, smirking, before turning to Harry. “So, three brothers? What’s that like?” 

“Fun,” Harry said. “But also very loud.” He looked at Mr Tomlinson. “What’s four sisters like?”

“Um, loud,” he said. He smirked. “But also very fun.”

“Right,” Harry said, grinning. “What a lovely description.”

 

—

 

Harry had to admit that Mr Irwin was really charming and polite. It was a wonder how Mr Tomlinson managed to get such good friends. Or, maybe Mr Payne hadn’t been that good after all. Just leaving like that, without any explanation. It just comes to prove Harry’s point that you can’t trust anyone, ever. He couldn’t even trust himself. 

They were sitting in the living room later, when things turned bad. ‘Bad’ meaning he was asked to play the piano in front of everyone. Where was Miss Swift when you needed her? 

“I’d rather not,” Harry said. 

“I insist,” Mrs Walters said. There was something in her tone, the way she said it, that made it clear that there was no point arguing. 

“Fine,” Harry sighed, and stood up. When he walked to the piano forte, it was with shaky steps. 

When he sat down, he took a deep breath to steady himself. He put the fingers on the keys, trying to remember a song to play. Anything other than the Silence Symphony. When he remembered one he should be able to play without too much difficulty, he cleared his throat and was just going to start playing when, 

“Do you know how to play?” Mr Tomlinson asked, in a hushed voice, as if he didn’t want to disturb. 

Harry looked up. “Well, I would hope so. Otherwise, this will be very embarrassing.”

“Yeah, precisely,” he said. “We have a notebook in the cupboard if you need one.”

“It’s okay, thank you. I’ll manage.”

“Sure?”

“Positive.”

“And are you sitting properly?” 

Harry sighed. “Are you an expert on piano fortes?”

Mr Tomlinson studied him. “I can’t say I am, no. Why?”

Harry shrugged. “Just, for someone who isn’t an expert on piano fortes, you do act a little bit like an expert on piano fortes.”

Mr Tomlinson just shook his head, amused. “That one’s going to the book.”

Harry grinned. 

On the other side of the room, Lou spoke. “You know, Harry, for someone who isn’t a licensed psychologist, you sure do act a lot like a licensed psychologist.”

Harry was just about to make a counter back when he heard a giggle. He looked up and saw Mr Tomlinson beaming, his eyes going narrow, with laughing lines around his eyes. That must have been the first time Harry had actually seen him properly smile, all wide and beautiful. He should smile like that all the time. Even if he wasn’t even happy, he should still smile like that. 

“You remind me of my sisters,” he said. 

“Oh, really?” Lou said. 

Mr Tomlinson looked at her, still radiating. Glowing. “Yeah, you do.”

His eyes went back to Harry. “Oh, uh,” Harry said, unable to think, unable to form words, “Yeah, I, uh, get that a lot.”

Mr Tomlinson’s smile slowly faded and was replaced with a frown. Harry cursed on the inside. 

“Wait a minute,” Lou said, “what do you mean, you get that a lot?”

“Uh,” Harry said. 

“Mr Tomlinson, how old are your sisters?” 

“Between six and eighteen,” he said. 

“Harry, do people compare you to six year old girls on a recurrent basis?” 

“Well, um, it has happened,” Harry said, his cheeks going warm. “Once.”

“Oh, really? When?” 

“Just now,” he answered. 

“God, Harry,” Lou groaned. “Why did we bring you along?”

“Don’t ask me, I have no idea,” Harry said, truthfully. “Because you felt sorry for me?” 

“Must be,” she said, as she picked up a paper from the table next to her. 

Harry sighed and looked up again, and was met with blue eyes. Harry blinked. Mr Tomlinson’s eyes grew thinner, and his smile warmed up the room, making Harry sweat. Literally. One of his fingers slipped down to one of the keys, making one loud note fill up the entire room. 

Harry coughed, still on fire. “You were right, I do need to practise.”

“I never said that,” Mr Tomlinson corrected him. “Besides,” he grinned, “I’m no expert, remember?” 

Harry chuckled. “Right. Well, me neither, so.”

“You’re probably better than I am.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?” Mr Tomlinson’s voice was quiet. 

“I don’t know. You just seem like you’d be good with your hands,” Harry said, before coughing and adding, “I mean, with instruments. Like, musically. Playing things.”

Mr Tomlinson laughed and licked his lips. Harry swallowed. “Well, I could say the same thing about you.”

“Oh, uh,” Harry stuttered. “Um.”

Mr Tomlinson grinned. “Do you get that a lot as well?” 

Harry looked away, flushing. “Not really.”

“Well, it was the first thing I noticed about you.”

Another finger slipped down to a key. “Uh.”

Lou cleared her throat. “You do realise right that just because we’re not actively participating in the conversation, doesn’t mean we can’t hear what you’re saying?”

Mr Tomlinson chuckled. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry, and after one last look at Harry, he walked away and sat down on a couch. 

Harry sat still, shocked. 

He looked out the window. It was raining. Funny. He didn’t know why, but something about it was funny. Something. Maybe it was the fact that it was one hundred degrees inside. Maybe they should open a window. 

“Well?” Mrs Walters drawled. 

Harry jumped, and turned his head. “Huh?” 

“You were going to play something?” Mrs Walters urged. 

“Right, yeah.” Harry coughed and adjusted himself. “After all, I can be pretty good with my hands when I want to be.”

 

—

 

The next day, Tom told Harry he had received a letter. Harry beamed, knowing who it was most likely from. It was just nice with something extraordinary in a life otherwise so ordinary.

And he had been right. 

_Hi, Harry. It is Zayn._

_Hope everything is okay. Or, better than okay. I just wanted to let you know I am doing better. (Because you finally left the house!) (I am joking.) (I miss you.)_

_I figured I would do what you are doing; take a break. So, me and mum’s sister, Cara, and her wife, Michelle, are going to London. (Sometimes I am thankful for our abundance of relatives.) I am quite excited. Maybe a change of scenery is all we need sometimes. Maybe if you get stuck in one place for too long, you can get stuck in a feeling for too long, as well. Do you think places has feelings, Harry, like humans? I think not, but I cannot deny our house has been feeling rather depressing and suffocating lately. But maybe that is just me._

_Either way, we are leaving tomorrow, and I just wanted to let you know._

_Take care,_

_Zayn_

It rained the day Harry read his letter. However, once it cleared out, Harry was out of the door, feeling merrier than usual. Sometimes, all it took was one small thing to make a huge difference. 

He had just closed the door when he saw someone coming his way. He squinted his eyes and recognised Mr Tomlinson’s curvy, perfect figure. _Correction:_ figure. Minus the adjectives. 

Their eyes met. Time had a way of stopping when they did that. Strange.

“Oh,” Mr Tomlinson finally said. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Harry said. “I’m just going for a walk.”

“Oh,” Mr Tomlinson said. That’s when Harry noticed his hair was damp and sticking to his forehead. It was pretty adorable. Which was something Harry would never, ever say out loud. “May I join you?” 

“Oh,” Harry said, surprised. “Sure. I mean – yes, of course you can.”

Mr Tomlinson smiled. He seemed to be doing that a lot more lately. Harry liked that. Maybe he could make him smile again. Would be pretty sweet. 

“Do you know the neighbourhood?” Harry asked. 

“Not as well as I should,” Mr Tomlinson admitted. 

“What does that mean?” 

“That my local sense is shit.”

“Oh,” Harry laughed. “That’s what it means.”

“But I doubt we’ll get lost.”

Harry smiled. “I don’t think so, either.”

Harry gestured his head to the right, questioning, and Mr Tomlinson nodded affirmative and they started walking. 

“So, have you been here a lot of times?” Harry asked. 

“Quite a lot. It’s pretty close to my house in Doncaster, so I was here a lot as a kid.”

“Must be nice to have friends living so close to you, so you don’t have to travel as much.”

“Yes, I suppose. I do like traveling, though. I hate staying in one place for too long.”

“Same,” Harry said. “But I still seem to always do.”

“Stay in the same place for too long, you mean?” 

“Exactly. Sometimes you don’t have much of a choice. You can’t just leave.”

Mr Tomlinson looked at him, suddenly serious, his eyes curious and wondering, searching Harry’s face for something. “Would you like to?” 

“Leave?” 

Mr Tomlinson nodded. 

Harry didn’t know really what he was referring to, but, “Yes. But I think I’d miss home, though. I miss it a little bit now, to be honest.”

“So, basically what I can gather from this is that when you move out, you’d like to live close to your family?” 

“Well,” Harry thought about it, “it’s not my number one priority, but it would be nice I suppose. But it also depends on how you define ‘close’.”

“Would somewhere in England be close enough?” 

Harry grinned. “Yes, that would probably be close enough. Wouldn’t fancy living anywhere else.”

“No, me neither,” Mr Tomlinson agreed. His intense gaze was replaced by a smirk. “I’d miss the rain too much.” 

“Nothing beats water coming from the sky,” Harry agreed, dryly. 

Mr Tomlinson just shook his head, but he was smiling and Harry was intrigued. 

“Do you like the rain?” He asked. 

“I don’t mind it.”

“But it makes your hair all wet,” Harry commented. 

Mr Tomlinson raised a hand to touch his damp forehead. “Oh, no!” His eyes went wide. “You’re right. What a disaster. Whatever shall I do?” 

Harry laughed. “Um, let it dry? Don’t walk in the rain again?” 

“Don’t walk in the rain?” Mr Tomlinson repeated, gasping. “But it looks more dramatic when you walk in the rain. A bit boring otherwise.”

Harry smirked. “So, you’re bored right now?” 

“No, no, no,” Mr Tomlinson quickly said. “I meant when you’re alone.”

“But no one will be watching you when you’re alone, so why does it need to be dramatic?” 

“Excuse you, I do things for myself and not for other people.”

Harry snorted. “How independent of you.”

Mr Tomlinson nodded. “I like to think I’m a pretty good role model.”

“Yeah? So when your sisters grow up they will think, ‘if my brother can walk in the rain for the dramatic effect even though no one is watching, then I can figure out the meaning of life.'”

“What can I say? I have high hopes for them.”

“Right.” Harry grinned. “Well, let me know how it works out for them.”

“Oh, I will,” Mr Tomlinson assured him, firmly. “Set your expectations high.”

“Somehow, I think that with you as their role model, and with your wisdom, they will all just end up with severe colds.”

“Excuse you,” Mr Tomlinson said, “the Tomlinson’s immune system is out of this world. A little rain doesn’t bother us.”

“Good immune system and shit local sense.” Harry nodded. “Got it.”

“It runs in the family.” Mr Tomlinson shrugged. 

“Alright. Good looks and impressive intelligence runs in my family.”

Mr Tomlinson smirked and looked at him. “Yes, I can tell.”

Harry smiled and couldn’t quite explain why he felt so unbelievably pleased with himself, but he did. 

“So, um,” he said, looking around. There were some small wooden houses surrounding them. They looked kind of cute. “Do you know where we are?” 

“About five hundred meters away from where we started,” Mr Tomlinson laughed. He turned around and pointed at where they’d come from. You could still see Lou and Tom’s house. “I’m not that awful.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “Well, how was I supposed to know?”

Mr Tomlinson gave him a look. “You shouldn’t underestimate me.”

“Fine,” Harry said. “Well then, how about we walk as far as we can in that direction.” Harry pointed west. Mr Tomlinson followed with his gaze. “And then you lead the way back.”

Mr Tomlinson smirked. “Challenge accepted.”

 

—

 

Harry was feeling a bit torn. Because he didn’t like Mr Tomlinson – he didn’t. Or, he wouldn’t have if it wasn’t for the fact that he kind of liked him. A lot. It was a bit like scratching a mosquito bite – you knew you weren’t supposed to like it, but you did anyway. 

Now, obviously, Harry didn’t _like him_ , like him. It was more, “I can be in your presence without feeling the need to say ‘oh shit, I’m so sorry, but I have an errand to run’”. Which was a good stage to be in when it came to Harry’s friendships. If he’d go any further he’d enter the “I have errands to run, but I’m going to forget about those and spend time with you instead” stage. Which was an even better place to be. 

There was a knock on the door the next day. Quickly, Harry stood up and walked to the door and opened. He wasn’t even surprised to see Mr Tomlinson standing there. 

“Hello,” he greeted him, smiling. “You alright?” 

“Yeah, good, thanks,” Mr Tomlinson said. 

“Lou and Tom aren’t here,” Harry told him. For some reason, he was glad they weren’t. Almost relieved. They were usually out during the afternoon, always had something to do. 

“Oh, okay.” He didn’t seem very surprised.

Harry stepped aside. “Would you like to come in?” 

“Unless you’re busy?” 

“Not at all.” Harry shook his head. “Come on in.”

“Okay,” Mr Tomlinson said and stepped in. 

Harry walked into the living room, Mr Tomlinson following behind. However, when Harry left to prepare two cups of tea, Mr Tomlinson stopped and had a look around the room. Harry glanced at him from the kitchen and saw him inspecting the book titles, and watching some old photographs. His expression was intense, as if tried to memorise every word and every scratch.

“Ever been here before?” Harry asked as he brought the tea. 

“Can’t say I have,” Mr Tomlinson said, finally looking away from the book shelf and directing his gaze to Harry. “It’s a lovely house, though.”

“Quite ordinary,” Harry said, handing him his tea. 

“I don’t mind ordinary,” Mr Tomlinson said as he sat down. He took a sip of his tea. “Oh, wonderful.”

Harry grinned. “It must be quite different, though, from what you’re used to. The house, I mean. Heard yours is quite big.”

“It is,” Mr Tomlinson confirmed. “But just because you’re used to something doesn’t mean you can’t appreciate something else. Most things have a certain appeal once you get a good look at it.”

“That’s true,” Harry said and took a sip of his tea. “What was it like, though? Growing up and having such an abundance of space?” 

“Well, I mean,” Mr Tomlinson pondered it, which caught Harry by surprise. He was just expecting him to tell him it was ‘fine’, or ‘wonderful’, maybe. Something short and easy. “Good? Can’t complain, can I? But we’ve always been so many, I have a massive family and we had so many servants, so it was never really quiet and empty. But at the same time, it was almost too big. It was nearly too much space, so you’d almost just disappear sometimes. People hardly noticed your presence. Easy to get overlooked.”

Harry nodded. “Uh huh. Well, that’s the opposite of what my home is like. There they know where you are even when you’re hiding.”

Mr Tomlinson smiled, his face softening. “Really? You should tell me more about that.”

Harry thought for a second. “Well, once, we had some family over that I didn’t particularly wanted to see. So I wrote my family a note saying I was out shopping, but I was actually hiding in the attic. Ten minutes after they’d arrived, one of the relatives walked up to where I was hiding and told me my mother had asked for me.” Harry smirked. “It was a bit embarrassing.”

“Oh,” Mr Tomlinson laughed. Harry wanted to record the sound. “I see. There’s about one million places you can hide in my home. Makes hide and seek real hard, though. My sisters can be quite imaginative when they want to be.”

“I can imagine,” Harry said. “Must be nice with all the space though, gives you some freedom.”

Mr Tomlinson shook his head. “Not really.”

“No?”

“It gives you the appearance of freedom, not the actual thing. Besides, my parents were really strict on how to act, how to talk - and even who to talk to.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah. Once they paid attention to you, it was mostly just to tell you what you’ve done wrong.”

Harry frowned, not sure what to say.

“It was just a bit hard for me to disappear in the crowd like that,” Mr Tomlinson continued, “because I want to be in the centre of attention.”

“You do?” 

“Are you surprised?” 

Harry shrugged. “You just don’t seem like the type.”

“Walking contradiction, I guess. Want to be, but don’t like being.”

Harry had no idea what that meant. “Okay.”

Mr Tomlinson grinned. “You seem confused.”

“I am, a little bit,” Harry said, honest. “I just don’t understand you.”

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes narrowed. “What is it you don’t understand?”

Your change in behaviour, your honesty, how you constantly make me feel on the edge, how you make me feel relaxed, how you acted toward Nick, how you are acting toward me. “Everything.”

“Everything? A bit vague, don’t you think?” 

“I think humans are drawn to vague words so we don’t need to be too specific and think too much.”

“Given this a lot of thought, have you?” 

“I’ve given most things a lot of thought because I have too much free time on my hands.”

“Right.”

I have given you a lot of thought. “Yeah.”

“Not always nice thinking, though. Sometimes you don’t reach good conclusions.”

Harry hummed. “But sometimes you do.”

Mr Tomlinson shrugged. 

“Besides, if you think of something bad, at least you’ll have something to complain about later.”

The sun pierced through the open window and Mr Tomlinson smiled. Harry didn’t know what lightened up the room the most. “What a lovely way to look at it.”

“I like staying positive.”

Mr Tomlinson eyed him carefully, his expression soft although intense, and Harry didn’t know why he didn’t feel self-conscious under his scrutinizing gaze. Without looking away he said, “The weather is nice.”

Harry was just about to respond when the front door opened, and the house was filled with chattering. In stepped Lou and Tom, and they stopped abruptly in their tracks when they noticed they weren’t alone. 

“Aren’t you cosy,” Tom observed. 

Harry hadn’t even noticed they were leaning towards each other subconsciously, almost touching. He was going to say something but Mr Tomlinson cleared his throat and stood up. 

“Right. I think I should get going now.”

“Oh, no,” Lou said. “By all means, stay.” 

“Thank you, but I have, um, things to do.”

Harry didn’t feel disappointed when he walked out the door. He didn’t. 

And he also didn’t feel excited when he dropped by the next day. He didn’t. And not the day after that, either. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

However, five days later, he figured he might as well stop kidding himself. When there was a knock on the door, he quickly skipped to the door, full on beaming, until – 

“Oh. You.”

In front of him stood Mr Irwin, laughing. “Expecting someone else?” 

“No,” Harry muttered. 

“Are you busy?” 

“Well, um, not really.” 

“Can I come in?” 

Harry stepped aside. “Sure, go ahead. Any reason for your sudden appearance?” 

“Not really. I noticed Louis has been spending a lot of time here, and I wanted to see what all the fuzz was about.” 

“Oh,” Harry said. “Right. There’s not much fuzz. Just me.”

Mr Irwin studied him. “Just you. I see.”

Harry stood awkwardly in the doorway. “So, would you like a cup of tea?”

“A cup of tea would be nice.”

Harry made two cups of tea, and wondered when his lifestyle had become that of an old lady’s – having afternoon tea every day. Not that he minded, he guessed this was always the way things were going to turn out. No point fighting destiny. 

“Thank you,” Mr Irwin said when he received his cup. Harry sat down. “So, this is was you and Louis do every day?” 

“Well, we both enjoy a good cup of tea, so.”

“Of course, tea. Tea is wonderful.”

Harry nodded. “So, have the two of you been friends for a long time?” 

“Yes. We go way back. Ever since childhood.”

“Did you also grow up in a huge mansion?” 

“As good as.”

“And you’ve always been friends?” 

“Yes. He is a wonderful friend, wouldn’t want to ever lose him.”

Harry hummed. He wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to learn more about him. “Really? Why?” 

“Lots of reasons. He’s kind and very loyal. And well, I don’t know, he’s good at giving advice.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “He’s good at giving advice? Why, what kind of advices has he given you?” 

“Maybe not any specific to me, but I heard he advised one of his closest friends out of a very unfortunate marriage not too long ago.”

Really, as soon as the words left Mr Irwin’s mouth, the entire atmosphere changed, and Harry _knew_. He just knew. 

“And this friend,” Harry said, slowly, not actually wanting an answer, “who would that be?” 

Mr Irwin scratched his chin. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of him, but his name is Liam Payne.”

Harry might have heard of him. “Who used to own an estate in Cheshire but recently moved to London?” 

“Yes!” Mr Irwin exclaimed, excitedly. “Do you know him?” 

“We’ve met.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “And did Mr Tomlinson state his reasons for this interference?” 

“Apparently, there was something wrong with the family.”

“Something wrong with the family?” Harry repeated. Indeed, there were many things and more wrong with his family, but he didn’t appreciate anyone else making it their business. 

“Yes,” Mr Irwin said. “I heard Liam was quite heartbroken, but ultimately he decided to trust his friend’s judgement and leave, and that’s all I know." 

Harry nodded, starting to feel numb. “I understand.”

Mr Irwin’s frowned suddenly. “And are you alright? You look a bit dizzy.”

“Yes, I, um,” Harry coughed, “I am actually feeling a bit dizzy.”

“Oh, my,” Mr Irwin said. “I shall leave you alone then. Unless there is anything you need?” 

“No, thank you,” Harry whispered.

Mr Irwin stood up, walked to the door before turning around, saying, “Do you reckon you’ll come tonight? Might feel a bit better by then.”

Right. The dinner tonight. Harry thought about who else would be there, and no. Definitely not. “I doubt it.”

Without any further ado, Mr Irwin bid his good byes and left. 

Everything suddenly began feeling unrealistic, as if the walls started caving in. Harry recognised that feeling. 

That feeling that starts in your fingertips and slowly works its way in, until it has occupied your entire body, and suddenly you can’t imagine yourself without it. You’re not yourself anymore; you’re a storming cloud in a clear sky at bright daylight. Filled with electricity and chaotic streams of grey rain and no one should come close.

That feeling when your breathing starts getting hallow, your chest tightens and it feels like there’s a massive weigh on your shoulders dragging you down to earth; and then even further down.

You want to scream out, want to explode, want to tear yourself open.

Instead, you sit silently. Waiting until you disperse into the sky.

Lou and Tom came home later, but Harry quickly told them he wasn’t feeling well and wanted to be left alone. He wasn’t lying. 

It was dark and raining when Lou and Tom finally left. Good. The sunshine was offensive. 

It took him by surprise when there was a knock on the door. Harry blinked, frowning. Lou and Tom couldn’t be home already – they just left. And even if it were them – they would have just walked in, they wouldn’t have bothered knocking to their own house. 

But everyone else were at Mrs Walters. Strange. 

Harry walked to the door, cautious. He opened it, and he should have known who would be there. He really should have. 

“Oh. You.”

Mr Tomlinson’s eyes were wide, and his hair was glued to his forehead, seeing he was standing right in the pouring rain. He created quite the picture. He always did. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice frantic.

Harry kept looking at him. He wasn’t even wearing a jacket. Stupid. “You’re going to catch a cold,” he said. He hoped he did. 

“I don’t care.”

“Okay,” Harry said. He should invite him in. He remained silent.

“May I come in?” 

Harry stepped aside. 

Mr Tomlinson walked in, and closed the door. “Are you certain you’re alright?” 

No. “I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

 _I want to step out into the rain and catch such a bad cold I’ll never have to leave this house ever again._ “Absolutely.” Harry sat down on a chair, and a thought suddenly hit him. “Are you okay, though? You look a bit, I don’t know, out of it.”

He actually did, wild eyes and gasping breaths, not as casual and confident as he usually was. But he of course answered, “No, I’m fine, thank you.”

It was silent for a moment, apart from the rain echoing and filling the room with noise. 

“Would you like to sit down?” Harry asked, gesturing toward a chair. 

“No, thank you,” Mr Tomlinson said, no hesitation. 

“Um, okay,” Harry said, hesitant, confused. “Would you like a cup of tea?” 

Again, “No, thank you.”

“Okay.” Harry started drumming his fingers on his legs, awkwardly, not able to think of anything else to ask. 

This was very unusual. Harry knew why he was on the edge, but he had no idea what made Mr Tomlinson act this strangely. He started pacing about the room, inspecting every photograph and painting, as if he had never been here before. As if he had not been here yesterday. Or the day before that. 

Harry realised something. “Why aren’t you with Mrs Walters?” 

“Actually,” Mr Tomlinson said, turning around, “I needed to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Harry said, still with that slow, uncertain hint to it. “Talk.”

Mr Tomlinson took a deep breath stood up straighter. Harry frowned. This actually seemed serious. Maybe he was going to tell him once and for all to keep Zayn away from Mr Payne. As if he hadn’t already made sure they’d be kept apart already. 

“First of all, I think I should state my reasons.”

Because your family is a complete disgrace, yourself included. 

“Although things such as family and money should always be considered when making serious decisions, sometimes rules must be ignored.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. He had no idea what he was on about.

And, yes, family and money did matter, you have made that abundantly clear. 

“But when situations such as these occur, I’m afraid I am left with no choice.”

No choice in what? He wasn’t making any sense. 

Mr Tomlinson took a step closer, and his entire expression changed. Became sad, almost. “I love you,” he said his voice breaking. “And I know that loving you makes no sense; it is irrational, irresponsible but most of all, unfortunately, irrevocable.”

_Unfortunately?_

“That being said, some things cannot be explained. Why does the earth spin around the sun? Come to think of it – most things don’t make sense. Having that on mind, I will ask you once and for all to accept my hand in marriage.”

Harry must have misheard, apart from the fact that he absolutely didn’t mishear, and this is actually happening, and oh my god, how is this actually happening. 

Harry blinked. He was still sitting down, although the world was spinning at one hundred miles per minute. 

This was not happening. 

It was happening. 

Finally, Harry cleared his throat and, “Did you just initiate that being in love with me is the worst thing that has ever happened to you?” 

Mr Tomlinson looked hesitant for a second before, “Well, I’ve had a pretty good life.”

Harry’s heart sped up. This was not okay. This was wrong on so many different levels. On all levels ever existing. 

Harry couldn’t believe this. “Excuse me.” 

“Would you like me to repeat something?” 

“You’ve said enough, thank you.”

Silence on the outside, screams on the inside. A beautiful contradiction in the ugliest, most infuriating way possible. 

Mr Tomlinson finally broke it. “Well?”

The glass has been broken, might as well spill out what’s inside. “I think in situations such as these, a sense of obligation might be expected, however, you have insulted me in all ways possible and I cannot think of a single positive thing to say. I’m just going to say no and be done with it.”

Mr Tomlinson stared at him, stunned rather than angry. Not that Harry particularly cared how he felt. However, a part of him wanted him to be upset, at least then they’d be even. 

Finally, “That’s it?” 

That was it. “Pretty much, yeah.” 

“Are you rejecting me?” 

“Would seem so, yes.”

Mr Tomlinson took a step closer. “Are you laughing at me?” 

“Can’t see anything funny in this, so, no,” Harry said. “However, I would suggest that the reasons you suggested for this being a bad idea will help you see the irony, and maybe _you_ can laugh at it.”

Mr Tomlinson only nodded, silent, holding his breath. Harry wondered what he was thinking about. And if he wanted to know. 

He then started pacing about the room again. When he finally stopped and turned around, his eyes were cold and his voice was dead. “And may I ask why you chose to reject me with so little consideration?” 

Harry snorted. “I might as well ask why you told me you loved me against your better judgement.”

“That’s not what I –“

“That’s exactly what you meant!” Harry snapped. “And besides, even if you had worded it better, I still wouldn’t accept. I have my reasons, you know I do.”

“Oh, really now? And what would those be?” 

“What about my brother, Zayn?” Harry asked, still burning. He couldn’t cool down, nor calm down. “And Mr Payne? How you forever ruined the happiness of my most beloved brother?”

Mr Tomlinson huffed. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“So you deny it then? You deny that you separated them?” 

Mr Tomlinson opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked away. “No, I don’t deny it.”

Harry had expected it, of course he had, but it still caught him by surprise. It still hurt. “How could you do it?” 

Mr Tomlinson looked exasperated. “Because I thought it was the best thing for everyone involved.”

“By everyone, you mean yourself?” 

“No, I don’t mean myself –“

“I don’t believe you.”

“All I’m saying is that it was clear that Liam was more in love with Zayn, than the other way around. It wasn’t fair.”

“And who are you, as an outsider, to make that judgement?” Harry demanded. “He’s just shy, if you would have known him yourself, you would have understood that.”

“True as that may be, it still wouldn’t have been a good match.”

“No? And why, according to you, would two people who love each other, are financially secure and similar personality wise, not be a good match?” 

“I didn’t want to say this, but your family isn’t one I’d recommend getting involved with.”

There it was. “Right.”

“You are obviously not included.” 

Insult the people you love the most in the whole world, how romantic. “Well, then, I wouldn’t want to intrude your dream world with the bacteria that are my parents.”

“That’s not what I –“

Harry didn’t want to hear anymore. “What about Nick Grimshaw?” 

Mr Tomlinson was instantly stunned, if only for a second, before his brain seemed to have registered his name, and his eyes grew dark and his shoulders tensed. “Mr Grimshaw?” 

“Yes. Or will you deny how you ruined his entire future as well?”

“What happened between Nick and I, stays between the two of us.”

So no denial in other words. “I see. Because you wouldn’t want to get involved in affairs that have nothing to do with you, am I right?” Harry snorted. “Maybe you should practise what you preach.” 

Mr Tomlinson didn’t reply to that, only shook his head frustrated. “So this is your opinion of me. Louis Tomlinson, professional life ruiner, and that’s why you don’t want me to get involved in yours. Well, I’m glad you didn’t sugarcoat it.”

“I could say the same thing to you,” Harry hissed. “I think honesty is the only thing we have in common, really.”

“Basically, what you’re saying is that if I would have lied and flattered you instead of telling the raw, and uncomfortable truth, then this would have ended differently.”

“You’re mistaken,” Harry said. “What I’m saying is that there is no other way you could have possibly phrased, expressed or narratived it, that would have made me even consider saying yes. When I say that honesty is the only thing we have in common, I mean that there are six billion people on this planet, and frankly, you are the last person on earth I could ever marry.”

The words quickly left Harry’s mouth, without even much thought from his behalf; only pure emotions coming from the pit of his stomach, now out into the open. It seemed like they affected Mr Tomlinson, however, as he immediately stepped back and his eyes widened. There was something wild, untamed, in his eyes, an uncertainty, almost fear – but Harry could have imagined it, as it was gone almost as soon as it had arrived. 

“I understand your feelings perfectly clear,” he said, but his voice had lost its rough edge and burning passion, now monotone and polite, almost practised. “Now I have only to be ashamed of what my own have been.”

Harry had a feeling he would start crying if he said anything else, so he remained silent. 

“I will leave you now. Forgive me for disturbing you, it will not happen again.”

And with that, Harry watched as he walked out of the room and out of the house. Out of his life.

It was dead silent - it had even stopped raining. Harry hadn’t noticed. With numb, slow steps he walked up to his room and shut the door and went to the bed. He replaced the rain outside with rain from inside. 

Tom and Lou knew better than to talk in. 

 

—

 

The next day, the sun was bright. 

The day felt surreal, like it wasn’t supposed to be existing. Like it was a dream you’d wake up from any second. When there once again was a knock on the door, Harry opened it, not knowing what to expect although knowing exactly what to expect. 

Mr Tomlinson was standing there. The second their eyes met, there was an apology on the tip of Harry’s tongue but Mr Tomlinson beat him to it. 

Harry expected _I’m sorry,_ or, _may I come in? _Anything but, “This is for you,” and a letter.__

Harry accepted it. _Would you like to come in,_ was on the tip of his tongue, but again, Mr Tomlinson beat him to it; turning around and walking away, not saying another word. 

Harry followed his retrieving back with his eyes until he was out of sight, before closing the door. 

He sat down on a chair and ripped the envelope open. 

_Dear Harry,_

_Firstly, I would like to apologise for taking up so much of your time. I realise I do not have the right to expect anything out of you, however – I do not think I could live with myself if I did not defend, and explain, myself on some of the arguments held against me. So, please, indulge me._

_The first thing I would like to bring up is the matter regarding your brother, Zayn, and Liam. I understand that nothing I say will say will in any way affect the way you feel in the concern, seeing as we are both biased, although in different directions. Liam has been my friend for many years, and he is as dear to me as Zayn is to you. I genuinely thought Liam cared about Zayn more than Zayn did about him. I thought I was doing a friend a favour, and that is all I have to say on the matter._

_As for Nick Grimshaw, I could write a novel on all the things I would like to say, and I do not think it would cover even half of it. I will keep it short nonetheless, as words are not enough and it is all part of the past, and a particularly painful one which I do not particularly like reliving._

_I do not know how much you know, nor what Nick has told you, but it is true that Nick and I go way back; that we grew up together and that my father treated him as one of his own. It is true that my father may have loved him more than me. When my father passed, Nick was granted a large part of his fortune. A fortune he quickly lost again due to gambling, and God knows what else. However, as you know, I have many sisters who were also promised an even larger part. Naturally, Nick knew this as well. Which is why he tried to trick one of them into getting romantically involved with him - however, as soon as he realised he would not be receiving a penny, he stopped expressing any interest in her. I told him I never wanted to see him again. I do not want to tell you which sister it was, or when it happened - not because I do not trust you, but because my sisters are very important to me and I would not want to share this sort of information without their consent. All I can tell you is that she was devastated for months. I will be angry for years._

_I told you about my childhood, how narrow and close minded it was. Being told what to think and how to act. It was not until I met you that I stopped to think about things, and I will be forever grateful for that. You could ask me anything and I would not know the answer to it, because I do not know anything when it comes to you. All I know is that I would like you to explain it to me. I want to listen to you talk for hours, for all eternity, explaining everything I do not understand. And then explain what I do understand, because I do not want you to ever stop talking._

_You are everything I do not know and everything I want to learn._

_I cannot describe what I feel for you, but it starts from the pit of my stomach, and it is as agonising as it is wonderful. And I am sorry I focused on the former whilst talking to you. It is only agonising because I have no control over it, and it makes me feel helpless. I am sorry for not explaining that to you. I am sorry for being selfish. But most of all – I am so, so sorry for upsetting you. If there is one thing you should take from this letter, it is that simple truth – I never meant to cause you any harm. Granted, it hurts knowing you care for someone more than they care for you. Especially when it changes absolutely nothing. However, I think this is one of those moments when I should forget about how I feel, because this is not about me. This is about you. Everything is about you, it seems._

_All I can say in my defence is that words fail me sometimes. I want to tell you your hair looks lovely in the afternoon light, and I end up saying the weather is nice. I remember telling you I like being in the centre of attention. What I meant was I want to be the centre of your attention. That I want to be the leading part of every story you tell – past, present and future._

_You are the dream I am always having._

_Again, I am sorry._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Louis_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (the worst updater on earth is back!!) (better late than never, eh? *awkward laugh*) (thank you so so much for sticking with me, you are all so special, wonderful and lovely and all other endearing tributes i can think of <3) (enjoy!)

There’s this thing about coming home, a sense of nostalgia almost, or déjá vu; the smells, the tastes, the feelings. It makes the expression “you don’t know what you have, until you lose it” seem very real and relevant suddenly. Harry smiled, standing in the hallway, taking it all it, until footsteps appeared and – 

“Oh. You’re back.” Simon’s voice was flat, emotionless, as he noticed Harry standing there.

Harry would have preferred, “Harry, you’re back! Finally!” Or, “Harry! How I’ve missed you!” Or a hug, maybe. If he was feeling greedy. But he took what he could get. Grinning, he put both his hands on his hips and stood up straighter. “Indeed, I am.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Great,” he muttered, as he walked away again. “I’m thrilled.”

_Home sweet home._

Harry walked into the living room. “Hi, mum.”

Anne put down the paper she had been reading. She didn’t hug him, or welcome him home exactly, but she was not unpleasant either. There was a weak, but present smile on her lips. Again, Harry took what he could get. “Hi, darling. Did you have a good time?” 

“Yes,” Harry said. “I did. It was fun.”

“Did Tom and Lou treat you well?” 

Harry nodded. “Apart from the time they tried to push me into a volcano, they were nice.”

“That’s good. What did you do? Did you visit Mrs Walters?” 

Harry swallowed. It got harder to breath suddenly. “Um, yes. She was also nice.”

“Did she have any family over?” 

Harry instantly shook his head. “No. No, just us.”

“Alright,” Anne said and picked up her paper again, which was usually an indication that the conversation was over. “Well, I’m glad you had a good time.”

“Yeah, me too.” Harry walked a few meters before remembering, and turning around, saying, “Do you know when Zayn will be back?” 

“Tomorrow, I reckon, if everything goes according to plan.”

Harry nodded and left. 

Anne continued reading, Simon ignored him, and Niall and Josh were out of the house. It was funny how everything could continue on as usual even as everything had changed. 

Harry put Louis’ letter in his drawer. He hadn’t looked at it since he had received it three days ago and decided he needed to go home. There was no need – he had already memorised every word. They were permanently inked in his mind.

 

\--

 

“I’m home!” Zayn declared as he walked through the door the next day. He stomped his feet in the hallway, trying to get rid of some water. 

“Finally!” Simon exclaimed and rose from his chair. 

“Zayn, you’re back!” Harry beamed, and hurried past Simon. Behind Zayn stood Cara and Michelle. “How I’ve missed you.” 

Zayn made a choking sound as Harry hugged him tightly. “You don’t hold back, do you?” 

“Why would I?” Harry took a step back. “Cara! Michelle! I’ve missed you, too!”

“We’ve never even met,” Michelle commented, party pooper as she is. 

“True as that may be, I’ve heard so much about you, I feel as though we are friends already.”

Michelle shrugged, amused. “Okay,” she agreed, smiling. 

“Cara!” Harry hugged her. He did know her. 

Cara chuckled. “You’re like an excited puppy, greeting us all happily at the door.”

Harry hummed. “I’ve been told I’m more like a cat, actually.”

Cara touched his hair. “You have the same quirky ears.”

Harry beamed. “Thanks.”

Simon hit him on his arm. “It wasn’t a compliment, you fool.”

Harry sighed and turned around, hissing like a cat. 

Cat laughed, delighted. “Spoken like a true cat.” 

“Anyway,” Anne said, in a bored voice, “come in. We have dinner ready.”

The whole family went into the kitchen. 

“Truly, it is nice to have you back, Zayn,” Simon said, when they were all seated. 

Harry nodded in agreement. 

“Thanks,” Zayn said. “I’m not staying for long though.” 

_What?_

“What?” Simon exclaimed. 

_Please, please, don’t leave me here alone –_

“The three of us are leaving again soon,” Zayn said. “We were just dropping by.”

Harry gripped his arm tightly. “Can I come with you?” 

Zayn shrugged. “Sure.”

“Fine by me,” Cara said. 

“Yes, please, take him with you,” Simon said. 

For once, Simon and Harry agreed on something. 

\--

Later that night, Zayn and Harry were lying in their beds. Harry was trying really hard not to think and overanalyse what had happened the previous week in Lou and Tom’s cabin, when Zayn started speaking. 

“You won’t believe me when I tell you, Harry, but I am quite over Mr Payne. I really am.”

Harry turned around in his bed, thankful for the distraction from his own mind. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Zayn confirmed. “I just figured, why should I waste my time and energy moping over someone who totally led me on, only to disappear within the blink on an eye? Not only did he disappear – he didn’t even say good bye to my face! He only wrote a useless letter, and _god_ , the man can’t even spell correctly, much less use a comma the way you’re supposed to.” He sighed. “A man without proper grammar! What did I ever see in him?” 

He treated you well, and you were the only person in the room for him. You probably sensed that. “I don’t know.”

“Me neither!” Zayn cried. “It’s just glaringly obvious that he never cared about me, so why should I care about him?” 

Harry’s voice was quiet. “You shouldn’t.”

“Exactly,” Zayn agreed. “I don’t.”

“You shouldn’t,” Harry repeated. 

“Good, because I don’t. At all.”

“Great.”

“Yeah.” Pause. “Besides, he had that really awful friend you disliked. What was he called? Mr Tomlinson?” 

Harry swallowed, and could feel all the colour draining from his face. “Mh-hm.”

“Now we don’t have to run into either one. Win win. Great, right?”

Harry felt cold. “Splendid.”

Zayn frowned, as if he could sense something was wrong. “You okay?” 

“Great, yeah. I just. You know. I just hate that guy.” 

Zayn gave him a short nod. “I know you do.”

Harry tried not to think too much about that. He tried not to think too much about anything.

 

\--

 

When Zayn said they were leaving shortly again, he wasn’t messing about. He meant “shortly” as in the day after. 

They waved their family goodbye, and left at noon. 

They’d been going for about one hour, when something suddenly struck Harry. “Hey, where are we going?”

Cara laughed. “Doncaster.”

Harry jolted in his seat. “What? Why? What are we going to do there?” 

“Why so surprised? Where did you think we were going? Italy?” 

“No, I didn’t think we were going to Italy,” Harry muttered. “I just. I don’t know. You didn’t answer my question, though, what are we going to do in Doncaster? 

Cara shrugged. “We’re going to stay in my uncle’s house, and there’s this really big mansion that I thought we could visit.”

“This big mansion,” Harry said, hesitant, “would not happen to belong to the Tomlinson’s, would it?” 

Cara turned around, her eyes wide. “Why? Do you know them?” 

Harry sunk down in his seat. He should have stayed at home. 

Zayn started laughing. “Harry’s mortal enemy is a Tomlinson. His first name is Louis.”

“Oh, really?” Cara said. “What is your issue with him?” 

“He’s so,” Harry flared his hands around, looking for the right word, “like, he thinks he’s better than everyone else because he has money, and just, I don’t know, makes decisions without having other people in mind.”

“Huh,” Cara said. “I didn’t know that. I’ve only heard nice things about him. But don’t worry, no Tomlinson will be home anyway. They’re all out of town. That’s why we’re going.”

“Are we allowed to do that?” Zayn asked. “Just visit their house without them being present?” 

“Sure,” Cara said, simply. “I do it all the time. As long as you don’t steal anything, it’s fine”

“I’m not sure how I feel about this,” Harry said. 

“Harry, don’t be like that. If you come traveling with us, you have to come with us to ridiculously expensive houses as well. That’s part of the deal.”

Harry wasn’t aware he had done some sort of deal when he’d decided to come with. “Fine,” he said, anyway. Maybe being in Mr Tomlinson's house would help him come to terms with things. Maybe.

 

\--

 

It’s not as if Harry was nervous; he really wasn’t. See, Harry did not get nervous. He just felt an overwhelming urge to hide behind a tree, then dig a deep hole and hide there. He was basically just experiencing a mild case of “wanting to hide”-ness. Which was totally a thing. Probably. Maybe. Whatever. 

So, it made absolutely no sense when Cara asked, “Harry, why do you look so flustered?”

“It’s hot out,” Harry said. 

“No, it isn’t.”

“A bit.”

“You’re wearing, like, three layers of clothes.”

“Well, then you would understand why I’m hot, wouldn’t you?” 

Zayn laughed. “I’ve told you, Harry’s just a bit flustered because of the guy living there. He really doesn’t want to run into him.”

Touché.

“I’ve told you ten times he won’t be here, though!” Cara cried. 

“He has trust issues,” Zayn said. 

Harry didn’t have it in him to argue. They got closer and closer to the building, and Harry’s heart sped up. It certainly felt unbelievably hot. And the house was massive. Intimidating, one could say. As if it would swallow you whole.

“What are you thinking about?” Zayn asked, his voice low, nudging Harry’s arm. 

Harry shook his head. “Nothing.”

Zayn that him a familiar look; that little eyebrow raise as if he knew exactly what Harry was thinking about. He obviously didn’t though, because then he would have had a lot more to say. 

“I think you enter that way,” Cara said, gesturing with her head to a door. 

They followed her inside. 

“Oh my goodness,” Michelle said as they stepped in, awestruck. Harry could relate. 

Although the house had seemed intimidating from the outside, inside it had a soft light coming in through the windows. The walls were coloured brown, and seemed infinite. Something about it just seemed inviting, like he was welcomed. It took Harry’s breath away.

They walked through the spacious hallway when Cara exclaimed, “Look!” 

In front of them was a huge portrait, displaying the Tomlinson family. 

Cara took a step forward, pointing at a man in the left corner. “Is that the one you dislike? Louis Tomlinson?” 

Harry nodded, mutely. 

Cara inspected him. “Wow. I’m not even attracted to men, but he sure is handsome.”

Harry nodded again. Scratch that first bit, and he agreed. 

“Alright. Shall we?” Cara sad, obviously finished with her admiring. 

Cara, Michelle and Zayn continued walking. Harry stayed glued to his spot.

Zayn turned around. “You coming?” 

“Um,” Harry said. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.”

Zayn only nodded shortly and they walked away. 

Harry took one step closer to the painting, as if it was pulling him in. Mr Tomlinson's eyes were blue and soft, in a way he had only seen them once; in Tom and Lou’s house. His smile was small and distant, but genuine. Harry wanted to see it wide, lighting up his entire face. 

It took Harry longer than it should have before he could discharge himself from the painting. 

He continued down the hall, having no idea where Zayn, Cara and Michelle had gone. He figured he could manage without them. 

He searched through the building by himself. Maybe it was intuition, something you just didn’t question, but Harry felt as though he knew this house although he had never been here before. Stupid, probably. There was just something about the structure of it that reminded him of something. Like a story he had once known but forgotten somehow.

When he was done, he decided to exit in order to maybe find Zayn and the girls outside. 

He had walked out of the building and into the garden, looking, always looking, taking every little detail in, when he saw someone in the distance coming his way, towards the building. 

Harry squinted his eyes. The person was wearing nothing but white boxers and a white west. Which was a bit odd, given the temperature. It was not very warm, despite what Harry had said earlier. 

Harry was so struck he hardly registered when the person stopped abruptly, took a small step back, and seemed hesitant as if maybe they considered going back again. 

Harry’s gaze went from the bare legs up the person’s face, and _oh god,_ not again, how did this continue happening, he wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow –

Mr Tomlinson’s big, hysteric eyes seemed to be experiencing the same sort of thoughts. However, as they had both recognised each other, there was no going back now. No pretending they hadn’t already seen each other. 

With small, clearly reluctant steps, Mr Tomlinson moved forward, and Harry did the same thing until they were standing right in front of each other. 

“Why are you drizzling?” Harry asked, taking in his damp clothes and his fringe glued to his forehead. 

“Took a swim in the lake,” he replied as if that was something he did every now and then. Totally normal.

“Right,” Harry said. 

Mr Tomlinson mouthed twitched. “Um, yeah. So... Hi?” 

Harry tried to smile. It fell short. “Hi,” he squeaked. 

Mr Tomlinson scratched the back of his neck. “So, um, what –“

Shit, fucking bloody blubbering, is that even a word, fuck it – “Oh my god, I am so sorry I’m here. I know I have no right, and I should have told you, but I didn’t think you’d be here, they told me you’d be back tomorrow and I wouldn’t have come otherwise, and oh Jesus, I’m sorry, this is so inappropriate and –“ 

Mr Tomlinson raised both his hands as if to stop him. “Oh my god, Jesus, stop, it’s fine. Relax.”

Harry stopped his rambling. “You sure?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Sure. So fine. A bit of a surprise, surely, but not, like, a bad one. I mean, no, yeah, it’s fine.”

Harry still wasn’t entirely convinced. “But, honestly, I wouldn’t have come here if I’d known. Honestly, Mr Tomlin-“

“Shit, call me Louis.”

Harry blinked. “Louis?” 

He chuckled. “That’s my name. Just a bit awkward, innit, to call each other by each other’s last name after,” he waved his hand around, “you know. After what we’ve been through.” 

After you proposed to me and I turned you down. “Yeah, I agree. Bit weird.”

“Yeah.”

Silence. 

Louis coughed and, “And I trust your family is in good health?” 

“Yeah, yeah, they’re great. Thank you.” 

“That’s a relief.” Another pause. “And, um. Zayn? He’s also good?” 

“Yes, thank you, he is also great, yeah. He’s here with me actually.”

“Oh, really?” 

“Yes, and two of our relatives. It was their idea to come, so.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.”

“Um.” Louis looked almost close to panic, exasperated. Harry probably looked about the same. “And, uh, your family?” 

Harry nodded frantically. “My family is perfect, thank you.” 

“Good.”

“Great.”

Louis looked down at the pile of clothes in his hands. “So, um, I should probably, you know. It’s a bit cold out today.”

“Freezing,” Harry said. 

“So, um.” Louis took a step towards the building. “I guess I’ll-“

“Yeah, you do that. And again, I am so sorry –“

“No, no, no, it’s fine really. I’ll just. Yeah.” Louis turned around and sprinted towards the building. 

Harry stood glued to his stop until what had happened caught on to him, and he started running. He cursed on the inside. Of course he shouldn’t be here. It was so inappropriate, intrusive – and rude, even. He had no right whatsoever. 

And where were Zayn and the girls? They needed to leave. And they needed to leave now. As in right this second. 

He didn’t want to enter the building again, should he run into, uhum, someone, a certain gentleman, maybe if he didn’t think his name out loud in his head, he would stop existing. Um. Not likely. Anyway, he went to the front entrance and waited, stomping his foot impatiently, walking in circles, and come on, where were they, what were they doing, fuck, it’s so hot out – 

The door opened, and Harry’s head shot up. Thankfully, it was Zayn, Cara and Michelle. 

“Harry! There you are,” Zayn said. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Where did you go?” 

Harry shrugged. “I waited here.”

“Are you okay? You look a bit stressed.”

“I’m fine,” Harry squeaked. “But, look, can we leave? Like, now? It’s just, um, I’ve got this bad stomach ache and I really, really just need to leave, okay?” 

“Why didn’t you say so?” Cara said. “Let’s go.”

They were ready to enter the carriage, and Harry was starting to relax when Michelle turned around, saying, “Wait. Isn’t that –“

Fucking, blubbering, truttering, sluttering, kluttering, none of those are actual words, fuck. 

Harry turned around, and true enough, Louis came sprinting towards them. When he stopped he was gasping, but grinning nonetheless, as if he was pleased he’d made it. He was appropriately clothed this time, which Harry had mixed feelings about. 

He extended his hand to Cara. “Hi. Louis Tomlinson. Pleasure to meet you.”

She shook it, slightly awed. “Cara Delavigne.”

Louis turned to Michelle. 

“Hi. Michelle,” she said. 

“Pleasure,” Louis said. “So, were you just leaving?” 

“Yes,” Cara said. “I’m so sorry, we had no idea you were here. I’d been told you weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.”

“That was the plan, but I arrived a day earlier,” Louis said. “Anyway, are you in a hurry or would you like to stay for some tea?” 

“Oh, we’d love to but,” Cara said and turned to Harry, “Harry isn’t feeling well, so we better head home.”

Louis gasped and also turned to Harry, whose cheeks were beginning to heat up. “No? You’re feeling poorly?” 

“A bit,” Harry said. 

“His stomach is hurting,” Cara filled in. 

“Oh, no,” Louis said. “Shit, you better head home then. Get some rest.”

“Yeah,” Harry drawled. 

“How long are you staying for, though?” Louis asked. 

“Nothing has been decided yet. Basically for as long as we feel like,” Cara said. 

“Maybe you could drop by tomorrow evening then?” Louis said and turned to Harry. “If you’re feeling better, that is.”

“Tomorrow sounds great,” Harry said, his voice strangled. 

“Really?” Louis broke out into a massive grin. “What would you like to eat? We have, well, everything, basically. So, what would you like? Anything.”

Harry chuckled. “Maybe you can surprise us?” 

“Oh, okay,” Louis said. “Sure. I can do that. Perfect.”

“Splendid,” Harry said. 

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer then,” Louis said, and took a step back. “Have a good trip, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Can’t wait,” Harry said, and immediately regretted it. 

Louis stopped in his tracks before smiling widely, and saying, “No, me neither.”

Harry watched him walk away, feeling light and confused at the same time. Because, surely, Louis ought to hate him. Or, at least not invite him over to his house. What was he playing at? 

It wasn’t until they were sitting in the carriage on their way back that Cara brought up the matter. “So, what’s the deal with you and Louis?”

“What?” Harry squeaked. “There’s no deal between me and Louis. What deal are you talking about? You’re not making any sense. There’s no deal.”

Cara quirked an eyebrow. “Just, why would you give us the impression you hate him and then when he shows up you’re all like, _‘oh, hi Louis, surprise me with your dinner tomorrow. I can’t wait to see you. You make me so nervous I have to fake a stomach ache.’_ ”

“I did not fake a stomach ache! It actually hurts.” Harry put a hand on his stomach. “Ow.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Sure it does.”

“Shut up,” Harry grumbled. 

The subject was dropped again, at least until later that night when Zayn said, “So, what’s the deal between you and Louis?” 

Harry wanted to disappear from the surface of the earth. “There’s no deal between me and Louis!” 

“Really? Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“You sure?”

Harry’s eyes casted downwards. “Yes. And it doesn’t matter. He hates me anyway.”

“Sure about that? It didn’t seem like it.”

“No, he does,” Harry said. How could he not? He met Zayn’s eyes. “Trust me.”

Zayn didn’t seem very convinced but thankfully dropped it.

 

\--

 

Harry wore his finest shirt the next evening, which he could unbutton almost all the way down to his bellybutton. Which was nice.

Louis sat next to Harry during the dinner, which was either intentional or unintentional. Harry didn’t know if he imagined his body heat next to him or f it was just hot in the room. Either way, Harry wanted more of it. 

Louis was friendly towards him, which took a heavy weight off Harry’s shoulders, but not all of it. It should have been enough. But it wasn’t enough. 

It was past eight when Harry had to get out for a breath of fresh air. He had been standing overlooking the garden for god knows how long when he heard the door sliding open and footsteps approaching. 

“Hi,” Louis said, joining him by his side. His voice was low, not more than a whisper. Intimate, almost. 

“Hi,” Harry said. He kept his eyes at the sea of bushes in front of him, letting the calm May wind cool his face. “Lovely view you’ve got here.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Louis agreed. “See that bush over there? Sort of looks like a dick, does it not?” 

Harry punched his arm. 

“Ow!” Louis cried out. “What was that for?”

“I’m trying to be all nice here and compliment your garden and you just start talking about dicks!” 

“So? It does looks like one, doesn’t it?”

Harry glanced at the bush, taking in the oval shape and small, weird, round thing on top, and, “It’s irrelevant whether or not it looks like one. Some things you can keep for yourself.”

“Fine,” Louis sighed. “See that plant over there?” He gestured his head to an orange plant growing some meters away. Harry nodded. “It’s called Safari Sunlight Blossom. We had them imported from a small village in France, you probably haven’t heard of it. I hear they grow could beautifully this time of year, what with the sunlight and moist. I think the smell is a mixture between lavender, marjoram and freesia. They resemble dandelions, but the chalk is different.”

It was silent for a moment, Harry taking the speech in, before he burst out laughing, “Now you just sound pretentious!” 

Louis groaned. “There’s no pleasing you, is there?” 

Harry was still laughing. “I’m sorry,” he said, unsure what he was sorry for. 

“And I made that nice speech up and everything.”

“You made all that up about Safari Sunlight Blossom?” 

“I don’t even know if that is its real name. I don’t know shit about flowers. I just know that dandelions means lion’s tooth, and I thought that was quite cool.” Louis gave the unknown orange flower another look. “Looks nice, though. Orange.” He gave it a slow, appreciative nod. “Nice,” he repeated. 

“You should import some tulips. I hear they’re more valuable than gold in some places.”

“The expert has spoken.”

Harry smiled. 

Louis turned slightly, so he was almost facing Harry. “Really, though. You’ve been alright?” 

“I’ve been alright,” Harry said. He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of information Louis wanted to receive. I’ve had trouble sleeping? I’ve revaluated some things? I haven’t reached any conclusion? “And you?”

“Same,” Louis said, undoubtedly experiencing likewise thoughts. Harry wanted to know every single one. “It’s been nice seeing the girls.”

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes on him. 

Suddenly, Louis’ smile grew. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, amused, his eyes crinkling. 

Harry quickly removed his gaze. “I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yeah, you are. Like I’m keeping a secret from you or something. All suspicious. Like you can see right through me, or something.”

Harry only shrugged. “Aren’t you?” 

“I’m always honest with you,” Louis said, and took a step back. “You know that.”

Harry watched him re-enter the house, and felt oddly empty. 

He was restless throughout the whole night, trying desperately to fight his brain trying to think and feel things.

But Harry did think of it. The more he chased the thought away, the more it came back. 

The thought was there and hanging in his head. 

The thought that all of this; the majestic walls, endless floors and colourful carpets – all could have been his. Harry turned around and saw Louis laughing at something Cara had said. Harry’s stomach filled up with something warm which instantly turned to ice. Everything could have been his. 

_Could have been._

Harry turned his head away. Never mind. It didn’t matter. 

The night went by in a blur. Too fast. Soon, too soon, they found themselves on the doorstep saying good bye. 

“This was really nice,” Cara said. “Really, really nice.”

“Absolutely,” Michelle agreed. 

Even Zayn nodded in agreement. 

Harry’s words got stuck in his throat. 

“It was,” Louis said, grinning like he meant it. Of course he meant it. It had been nice. Harry should say something. “You’re welcome to come back at any time.”

“Maybe you could come to ours?” Cara suggested. “It’s not much, just a little house down the road, but it’s got a lovely forest nearby.” 

“Great,” Louis said. “I’ll do that.”

Harry smiled. “Looking forward to it.”

Louis smiled, and yeah, Harry did look forward to it. 

 

\--

 

When the next day came around, Harry was so restless he could barely sit still. He made a cup of tea. He didn’t drink it. 

What irked Harry was that Louis hadn’t specified when he would be coming. He had just said ‘I’ll do that’. Which could be anytime! Harry wanted the exact minute of his arrival so he could prepare himself mentally and physically. 

When there finally was a knock on the door, Harry jumped and started pacing about the room, pointlessly. When Cara came, she stopped and inspected him. 

“Well?” She said. 

“Well?” Harry repeated. 

“Aren’t you going to open?” 

“I thought you were going to open.”

Cara shook her head, amused. Harry had been told he was like an open book on several occasions, and he didn’t know what she was reading right now. Probably something along the lines of “holy fuck, oh my god, shit, shit, is my hair okay? Shit, shit.” Harry didn’t really want to know. 

Michelle and Zayn also came, discussing the evolution of books. 

“Hiya,” Cara said, as she opened the door. 

Harry walked so he stood behind her. In front of them was Louis, looking casual and calm. And strikingly beautiful. Same old.

“Hi,” Louis said. 

“Would you like to come in?” Harry asked. 

“Yeah,” Louis said, entering the humble house. “Nice place you’ve got here. Cosy.”

“Thanks,” Cara said. “Not ours, though. But thank you anyway.”

Harry searched his mind for potential questions he could ask, just like he had practised in his mind this afternoon. 

“Did you have a good trip over?” He asked, and _score._ That was a good question, not weird, irrelevant or anything. 

“Yeah,” Louis answered. “It went well.” 

And now what? 

“You didn’t have a bumpy ride?” Ok. Fuck. That was a weird question. 

Louis, thankfully, laughed. “No, it was smooth, thank you.”

“Would you like to sit down?” Michelle asked. 

Louis nodded and they all say down. 

“So,” Louis said, “how did the two of you meet?” He directed the question to Cara and Michelle. 

“Oh, let me tell you,” Cara said, before starting to laugh. 

Thus began the story of how they went to the same gathering at the same time, as it turned out that they were in London at the same time – can you believe that? After that they kept running into each other – what are the odds? And it turned out that they both had feelings for each other – who would have thought? (Harry. Seeing as they were married. He didn’t say that out loud.) Louis kept nodding, and smiling the entire time, obviously humouring them. _Yes,_ you are the cutest couple. _Yes,_ we are all jealous. Cara and Michelle were obviously more than happy to talk about themselves, as most people were. 

“And that, friends,” Cara said and put a hand on Michelle’s knee, “is the story of how I met the love of my life.”

“How did I not know this earlier?” Zayn asked. 

“Because you never bothered to ask,” Michelle said. 

Harry kept quiet about how he hadn’t known either. It was just like that with relatives – you kind of assumed that they had known each other forever and will always know each other forever. Sometimes, you forgot that they are actually people and not just family members. 

Or, that was what Harry told himself as an excuse as to why he hadn’t bother to ask how they had met. 

“It’s great that you’ve found someone you feel that way about,” Louis said. 

Again, Harry felt unbelievably hot. Louis needed to stop being in his breathing area– he was like walking radiator; making Harry’s temperature go up and down like crazy, without any warning. 

Which, obviously, made sense, because what kind of warning would that be? Warning, code red, I’m going to remind you of an uncomfortable memory you are trying to supress, and it will make you sweat. Or, code blue, I will remind you of a memory that will make you cold sweat, remembering how you blew everything up. 

“And that everything worked out for you,” Louis continued. And yeah, code blue about that. 

“I know, we’re lucky,” Cara said. “And you’re not seeing anyone?” 

Harry sat completely still. 

“No,” Louis said, and Harry let out a breath of air. Of course he wasn’t. However, Louis refused to even look at him, had barely even acknowledged his presence – it was as if he had forgotten that the entire thing had happened. But that was impossible. How could he? But was he ignorant? Had he not meant what he had written? 

“It sounds nice, though,” Louis finished. 

“It’s better than nice,” Michelle said, grinning, and Harry tried his best to look as happy for them as possible.

“We’ve actually made dinner,” Zayn said, changing the subject. 

“Or, well, Harry did,” Cara pointed out. 

“Yeah, I did,” Harry said, proudly. “I hope you like steak, pie and Yorkshire pudding.”

“Love it,” Louis said, and finally met his eyes suddenly, smiling, and code yellow, for making Harry’s stomach swirl with butterflies. 

Later that night, after they had finished their dinner and everyone else had cleared off, Harry looked at Louis, his features blurred in the twilight, and said the first thing that came to his mind. 

“Would you like to go outside?” 

Louis said yes. 

They went out into the cold night. Harry didn’t know how to approach the subject of how he’d rejected his hand in marriage and Louis had written him an almost scarily intimate letter, so to put it simply – he didn’t. 

“So,” Harry said, _you’re looking good tonight, you want to make out behind that tree, will you let me suck your dick, the other way around would work as well, I just want to touch you,_ “did you hear that they decided that Pluto isn’t actually a planet?” 

“Really?” Louis said. 

“Yes. Apparently, it’s too small to be considered one.”

“A bit mean to exclude a planet like that, just because of its size. I mean, who made that rule?” 

Harry shrugged. “Probably someone obsessed with sizes.”

“Maybe they are compensating for something.”

“Makes sense. Like, I can picture some old man sitting by a telescope, scratching his beard and thinking, ‘hm, since I can’t prove my manliness through a gigantic penis, I’ll do it by excluding Pluto from the solar system to make everyone think I’m obsessed with sizes.‘”

Louis laughed, loud in the quiet night. “You have a theory for everything, don’t you?” 

“Well, I’m usually right.” Harry grinned. 

“Oh, really? So, if a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound?” 

“That question has always bugged me!” Harry exclaimed. 

Louis laughed again. “Please, do tell why.”

“Because people always get so arrogant about it, and like ‘oh, of course if makes a sound!’ But the thing is, the question in itself isn’t ‘does it make a sound?’ but, ‘does sounds exist?’” Harry looked at Louis. “Do you understand?” 

Louis shook his head. “Not at all.” 

“Well, the question is; ‘does sounds exist, or is it just a subjective experience?’ Like, ‘does sounds exist or does it just exist inside of our heads?’ The same goes for everything. Does anything exist or is it all in our heads? Because if that’s the case, then if no one is around to hear the sound, it will not exist. I’m not saying that’s the case, but it’s worth thinking about.” 

Louis inspected him, before shaking his head, grinning. “You’re so weird.”

“Weird is just another word for original,” Harry huffed. 

“Maybe,” Louis allowed. They stopped, and Louis’ smile slowly faltered. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

Harry’s insides got very hot suddenly and he forgot the ability to breathe properly. They were standing close, but not close enough; they could be touching but they weren’t. Harry could lift Louis’ chin up and press his lips against his, but he didn’t. 

The night was cold, but Harry couldn’t feel it. All he could feel, and all he could think, was a never ending stream of _I want you closer, I want you everywhere, I want you._

Their eyes met, and Harry was positively burning with it. He looked down on Louis’ lips. _Please._

Abruptly, Louis looked away. “We should head inside. It’s getting cold.” 

Harry instantly took a step back, as if burned. “Okay.” 

Without saying anything else, Louis turned around and walked away. Harry followed him. 

It was only natural. You only get one chance in life, and Harry had a way of always ruining his. 

 

\--

 

The next day, Harry experienced a mild case of uncertainty. 

Okay, so Louis had been acting quite indifferently towards him yesterday, but then again – Harry had just rejected his hand in marriage, and quite rudely moreover, so maybe it made sense. You just had to look at it logically, really. And although Harry was still upset about the Zayn and Liam incident, maybe that was something they could talk through like responsible adults, instead of walking on eggshells around each other, fighting the urge to pin the other one against a tree and snog them senseless. But maybe that was just Harry. 

Either way, communication was the key, and Harry wanted to open the door. 

Therefore, Harry prepared himself properly the next day. He wrote a script and everything.

( - Hi, Louis.

\- Hi, Harry. You look sexy today. I like what you did to your hair. 

\- I put mousse in it. Thank you for noticing. 

\- You are welcome. 

\- Look, Louis, I need to talk to you. It appears as if I have had a change of heart since I last met you. I understand now that there has been a lack of communication between us, and I apologise for that, and as should you. That being said, if you would let me, I would not mind engaging in sexual activities with you. Exclusively. 

\- I am very pleased to hear that. Truly, I could not be any happier. You are the sexiest man I have ever met and I am very lucky. 

\- As am I.

\- Let’s go make love. 

\- Let’s. ) 

Easy peasy. 

When Louis showed up that day, Harry opened the door himself, but kept quiet about what was eating him up on the inside, waiting till later, when he would have Louis all to himself. Louis never said anything about his hair, but maybe he was also biding his time. 

When they had just finished eating their dinner, there was a knock on the front door. Zayn got up to open. Harry could hear the sound of some chattering, then of a closing door. When Zayn returned, he held an envelope in his hands and had an uneasy expression on his face. 

“The man at the door said it was urgent,” he said, as he ripped it open. The colour disappeared from his face. 

Harry could sense bad news. “What does it say?” He asked, not sure if he wanted to know. 

Zayn looked up, and the look on his face confirmed that he probably didn’t. “Josh,” he said. “Josh is missing.”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean Josh is missing?” 

Zayn didn’t reply, only gave him a long look. 

Harry was silent, they all were, before he let out a quiet, “Fuck.”

“Maybe you should go home,” Michelle suggested. “That’s what I would have done. Your family probably needs you.”

Zayn and Harry shared a look, filled heavy, dreadful weigh. 

“This is grave news, indeed,” Louis said, as he stood up. “I will leave you alone.”

Harry wanted to protest, _but what about the script in my back pocket_ , but couldn’t form words at the moment. 

No one seemed able to; not when Louis left and not when Harry and Zayn left later on. 

The whole ride home was silent. 

 

\--

 

There’s this thing about coming home when you’re bringing bad news. It makes breathing harder.

At least the silence was broken not before long. 

“Oh, you two,” Simon sighed, as Harry and Zayn walked into the living room. “Suppose you don’t come bringing good news?” 

“Afraid not,” Zayn said. 

“At least we’re back,” Harry said. “Maybe that’s good news?” 

“Ha!” Simon exclaimed. “Harry actually said something funny for once. Praise the lord, it’s a miracle!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Unlike you. The funniest man of the planet.”

“I take pride in my ability to see the funny aspects of things.” 

Harry just sighed and sat down on a chair. “Anyway. Will anyone please explain what has happened?” 

“You see,” Niall said, appearing from the kitchen, a sandwich in his hand, “me and Josh were out in town, just mucking about, when I go into a shop to see if they have any fresh food, and when I come back, Josh is gone.”

For someone who was there experienced it, Niall was oddly calm. 

“And he has been missing ever since?” Harry asked. 

“Yup,” Niall said, taking a bite from his sandwich.

“How long has it been?” Zayn asked. 

“This happened the day you left, so it’s been some days now,” Anne said. “No reason to panic, really, but it is strange.”

“No reason to panic?” Simon repeated. “No reason to panic? This was just the tip of the iceberg! Soon all of our sons will mystically disappear, and I will be left all alone, and die out of starvation, and –“

Harry turned to Niall. “You seem very calm.”

Niall shrugged. “I have a good feeling things will work out. It’s odd, but,” he shrugged again, “maybe he just needed to use the loo or something and got lost.”

Harry didn’t think that was very likely. For once, he took Simon’s side on this. Granted, he didn’t think the rest of his brothers and he would magically disappear, but that only made it even stranger Josh had. 

What was the worst about this entire situation was the helplessness – that there was nothing you could actually do. Later that night, Harry did the only thing he could think of – he picked up a pen and paper. The words seemed to write themselves. 

_Dear Louis,_

_I hope you are alright. I hope the sun is shining, the penis bush is growing well – and that you are fine._

_Josh is still missing. I do not know why I am telling you this, seeing as it has nothing to do with you, but here I am anyway._

_It worries me, is the thing. Silly, really. Because Josh is a grown man who can handle himself. Or as good as, anyway. Right? I do not know what I want you to say, really – I guess I just want to get it off my chest. There is not much for you to do._

_Did you know that the scientific name for banana is musa sapientum, which means “fruit of the wise men?” And that thanks to its oil, rubbing the inside of a banana peel on a mosquito bit (or other bite) or on poison ivy will help you keep it from scratching and getting inflamed?_

_I just wanted to tell you something interesting so this was not a complete waste of your time. And since you are somewhat interested in plants and probably consider yourself a wise man._

_Kind regards,_

_Harry_

 

\--

 

Harry sent it the first thing the next day, and got a reply only two days after.

 

_Dear Harry,_

_Do not worry about wasting my time – you could never. What you should be worrying about is what you classify as “interesting information”. I am sorry to say I do not think random banana facts qualifies as that. However, did you know that a lion may sleep up to 20 hours a day? Now that is interesting. Makes you a bit jealous._

_As for Josh, I would urge you not to worry - which is easier said than done, I know. Had it been one of my sisters, I would have been pulling my hair off by now. Which I would beg you not to do – your hair is too lovely for that. Regardless, I have a feeling things will work out, and I do wish you will find some peace of mind soon._

_Please, never second guess writing to me. I want to know what is happening in your life, and I will reply as soon as I can. Always._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Louis_

 

\--

 

_Dear Louis,_

_Today, my father told me I resembled a cockroach trying to find food among humans. So it was nice to hear some kind words. Thank you for that._

_Do not worry, I will not pull my hair off. However, as time progresses, I find myself more and more uneasy. Surely, if he was fine, he would have been home by now._

_Speaking of interesting information, I will ignore what you said because it was stupid, and tell you that there are more stars in the universe than there are grains of sand on earth. Did you know that? And that 1,300,000 earths would fit inside the sun? Makes you feel small and insignificant, does it not? It does nothing, however, to ease the tight know in my stomach. I wonder if anything will._

_Kind regards,_

_Harry_

 

\--

 

It was late at night when Harry wrote his second letter, his words barely distinguishable. But he had to get them down on a piece of paper. 

“Who are you writing to?” Zayn asked, voice coming from behind him. 

“No one,” Harry whispered, almost childishly. 

Zayn didn’t push it.

Harry signed the letter off. 

When he went to bed, it was oddly cold, as if something was missing. 

 

_Dear Harry,_

_I understand that you feel small, but you should not feel insignificant. Do not do that to yourself. Because you are not, and you should not let anyone tell you otherwise. Not you father. Not even yourself. And certainly not some star facts, which I, by the way, did not know. Might come in handy one day if I want to show off._

_Speaking of the universe, me and my sister went out last night to watch the stars. She said one of the constellations looked like a frog, and it made me think of you. Please do not that as an insult – I mean it in the best way possible._

_I told you before, and I will tell you again – try not to worry. I have a good feeling._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Louis_

 

\--

 

_Dear Louis,_

_I appreciate everything you have told me. You are wiser than you look like. Please do not take that as an insult – I mean it in the best way possible. (See what I did there? Doing that thing you did when you take an implied insult and add “do not take that as an insult” after to seem nice. But I am smarter than I look like. The only one allowed to insult me, is me.) (I am not angry though, I thought it was funny.)_

_The house feels empty, like something is missing. Something is obviously missing, so that’s not strange._

_I wish you were here._

_Kind regards,_

_Harry_

 

Harry stared at that last sentence, wondering if he had taken it too far. _I wish you were here._ Maybe. Probably. 

_Never mind,_ he told himself as he sent it away; his palms sweaty and his heartbeat loud in his chest. Louis would reply saying something consoling. It was fine. Never mind. Who cared? 

 

\--

 

Harry cared. 

He cared five days later when Zayn asked him why he looked so worried. 

He cared ten days later when there was still no response from Louis or news about Josh. 

He cared fifteen days later when they finally received post, but none for him – just for Anne. 

“Mum,” he said as he walked with heavy steps to the living room. “For you.” He handed the letter over. 

Noncommittally, she took the envelope from his hands and tore it open. 

“Oh, dear,” Simon sighed across the room. “I bet it’s news to inform of us of our inevitable homelessness, as if we didn’t already know. As if it’s not all that I think of.” He sighed again. “If it’s not a bill, it’s a death certificate. If it’ not a –“

“Please,” Harry groaned. “Would you please, _please_ shut up?” 

Simon gasped. “How dare you? I have never been this –“

“It’s from my aunt,” Anne interrupted, probably not listening to their bickering. “She says Josh is with her.”

_What?_

“What?” Simon cried out. He quickly stood up. “Give me that,” he said as he took the letter. His eyes scanned it, growing wider as he did. 

“What does it say?” Niall asked. 

Simon nodded slowly. “It says he is safe with his aunt in Yorkshire.”

Niall grinned. “I knew it. I knew he’d come back.”

Simon gave him an exasperated look. “Well, if you knew, then why didn’t you tell me? Would have spared me a lot of trouble.”

“I did tell you!” Niall exclaimed. “You just didn’t listen.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“He’s coming home tomorrow,” Anne said, turning to Harry. 

Harry nodded. Good news for once. Although, he still felt like something was missing. He pretended not to know what it was.

 

\--

 

Josh walked through the door the next day as if nothing had happened. 

“Greetings, family,” he said, casually, as he closed the door. 

Simon quickly rose from his seat, and the rest of the family followed him into the hallway where Josh took his coat off. “An explanation, please!” 

Josh blinked. “For?” He asked, feigning confusion. 

God, he was arrogant. Harry wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch him in the face for leaving and being obnoxious about it, or kiss his cheek for coming back. 

“For disappearing for two weeks!” Simon exclaimed. 

“Oh. Right. That.” Josh coughed and scratched the back of his neck. Harry rolled his eyes. Punch him. Definitely, punch him. “Well, I suppose, to explain it fully, maybe I should introduce you to someone.”

Harry’s stomach was in a tight know. This could not end well. 

Josh took a step back and opened the door. “You can come in now!” He called out. 

Harry stood still on his spot, waiting restlessly, until a familiar head popped in through the door. 

“Hello!” None other than Taylor Swift piped before entering the house fully. Her cheeks were bright red, but other than that she had the same happy, eager expression as always. 

Harry blinked. “What the –“

“What’s this supposed to mean?” Simon demanded. 

“Well,” Josh said, and took a step back, taking Taylor’s hand in his, “me and Taylor are in love.”

Harry gave Taylor a stunned look. “I thought you were in love with me!” He said, almost indignant. 

“No, I wasn’t in love with you,” Taylor sighed. “You said so yourself. I was only projecting my ideals of a perfect man onto you, because I was lonely and impatient.” She squeezed Josh’s hand, beaming. “Turned out real love was just around the corner.”

“More like the room upstairs,” Niall said. “Christ.”

“Besides,” Taylor continued, “you were a bit too emotional for me, anyway.”

Harry huffed. “Excuse me.”

“I need a drink,” Anne muttered. 

“So, what’s the deal?” Harry asked. “Are you two in a proper relationship now, or what?” 

“As proper as it can get,” Josh said, grinning proudly. “Married and everything. Tied the knot.”

“A strong drink,” Anne continued. 

“ _Married?_ ” Simon repeated. “When? How? Why?” 

“Shouldn’t we be sitting down for this conversation?” Josh asked. 

“Definitely sitting down,” Anne said, and walked into the living room where she took her regular seat. She didn’t pick up her paper though, which was a giveaway that she actually was interested despite her nonchalant attitude. 

The rest of the family also sat down. And Harry, for some reason, ended up next to Josh and Taylor on the couch. Lovely. Taylor, who was apparently also part of the family now. Harry could also use a strong drink.

“Right,” Josh said, “it’s lovely to see you all again.”

“How about you cut the bullshit and tell us why you disappeared for over two weeks without telling any of us? Without a note or anything? You gave me a heart attack, you really did,” Simon said, and turned to Harry. “Harry, tell him how he gave me a heart attack.” 

Harry turned to Josh, trying to keep his face serious. “You gave him a heart attack, you really did. He woke me up in the middle of the night once, dying, and I tried to save him, but I couldn’t. I watched him die in the looming twilight, and there was nothing I could do about it. So, what you see in front of you now is not actually your beloved dad but a sad, heartbroken and surprisingly vivid ghost from the other –“ Harry stopped abruptly when he got a shoe thrown at his face. “Ow!” 

“Why do I bother with you?” Simon muttered. Harry gave him a sour look, watching his bare foot and hoped it turned cold. Simon turned to Zayn. “Zayn, my darling favourite son, would you please tell Josh that he gave me a fright?” 

Zayn turned to Josh. “You gave your father a fright. I would ask you not to do it again.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Josh said, chuckling nervously. 

“But, seriously bro,” Niall said. “It was like, one second you were there, and the next you weren’t. Where did you go?” 

“Well, you see,” Josh said, “Taylor was waiting for me outside. I ran into her the first time when Harry had rejected her a couple of weeks ago, and we’ve been seeing each other regularly ever since. And I guess, we just got along really well, it just clicked, and.” He took a deep breath. “And we decided to run away together.”

“Why would you do that?” Simon asked. “We would have given you our approval. I mean, this solves a lot of things.”

Josh and Taylor shared a look. 

Taylor cleared her throat, before saying, “Well, the thing is that I don’t actually own this house. I thought I did for a long time, but when my mother died a few years ago, it actually wasn’t bestowed on me, but Anne.” Taylor laughed nervously. “Really, I’m as poor as you are.”

Simon blinked. “Oh.” 

“So, we figured maybe it would be best for everyone involved if we just left and did our own thing,” Josh said finally. 

It was silent a second before Zayn asked, “Well, then, why didn’t you?” He looked at them, his eyebrows furrowed. “Why didn’t you do your own thing? Why did you come back?” 

Josh and Taylor shared another look. Some unspoken secret between their eyes. 

“Actually,” Taylor said, “we would like to keep that for ourselves.”

Simon frowned. “What?” 

“Something happened, and we would not like to say what, but it made us change our minds and come back,” Josh said. “And we would appreciate it if you would leave it at that.”

Zayn nodded slowly. “Of course.”

“Either way, we are happy you’re back,” Anne said. “And Taylor, welcome to the family.”

Taylor smiled. “Thank you.”

Harry scooted closer to Josh and embraced him in a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“I know, Harry,” Josh said. 

Harry smiled and everything felt right, even if for just a second. 

 

\-- 

 

Later that night, Harry was sitting on the porch outside his house, looking out at the sky, thinking of how there are more stars in the universe than grains of sand on earth, how there would fit 1,300,000 earths inside the sun, of how he should not feel insignificant, and he didn’t, when the door behind him opened. 

Harry turned around and saw Josh stepping out of the house with careful steps. 

“Hi, Harry,” he said, as he sat down next to him. “You alright?” 

“Sure,” Harry replied. “And you?”

Josh beamed, stars shining in his eyes. “Never better,” he said. Harry was happy for him. 

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks,” Josh said, and started fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper. “Although, Harry, there is something I need to talk to you about.” 

Harry smirked. “Do you need help pleasing your lady?” 

Josh punched him on his arm. “Fuck off.”

Harry chuckled. “I’m sorry, I meant your wife.”

Josh rolled his eyes. 

Harry shook his head. “I just can’t believe you’re married.”

“Me neither,” Josh said. “Although, that is practically what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Harry blinked. “Oh.”

“You know that guy you really disliked?” Josh said, and Harry’s temperature instantly went up by sixty degrees. “Louis? Louis Tomlinson?” 

Harry nodded wordlessly. He did know him. 

“For some reason, he’s the one who sent out people to come looking for us. He’s the reason we were found. I even talked to him in Yorkshire and, well, he’s the reason we decided to come back.”

“Why?” Harry whispered. “What did he do?” 

“You know how Taylor said she is actually quite poor, and money was a big concern for us?” Josh asked, and Harry nodded. “Let’s just say that isn’t a problem anymore.”

Harry’s eyes grew wide. “Are you saying –“

“Yes,” Josh said. “He made us promise not to tell anyone though, but I just thought you should know. He’s not as bad as you’ve made him out to be.”

Harry turned his gaze away from Josh’s face and out to the infinite, black sky, words stuck in his throat. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

“No problem.”

They sat like that in silence until Josh got up to his feet and walked back into the house, leaving Harry to his thoughts. 

Louis was the reason he could barely sleep at night. Louis was the reason he felt oddly empty when he was alone. Louis was the reason he had his brother back. 

Harry had wished of many things throughout his life. Longed for things he knew would never happen. He had dreamed of traveling the world – going places he had no backstory and was just a plain, white paper without any scribbling. Of reading every book existing – drowning himself in stories to escape his own.

But he was positive he had never ached for anything, _someone_ , this badly in his entire life.


	7. Chapter 7

”Do you believe in love, Harry?”

Harry turned in his bed, frowning. “Huh?”

“I mean,” Zayn said, louder this time, “do you believe it is possible to find someone you care about more than yourself? Or do we just give into the illusion because it’s a nice idea?” 

“Um,” Harry said, caught off guard by the serious question. But then, is there a better time to think about the meaning of life rather than when you’re about to fall asleep and your mind is pleasantly fuzzy and distant? “I think that in a lot of cases, people are more in love with the idea of being in love, rather than actually being, you know, in love. But I think there’s a difference between being in love and love. Like, I think love means different things for different people. I don’t think it necessary always means to have an outrageous amount of passion for the other person, but it can also be the safety of knowing you have someone who you know won’t disappear. I don’t think you can define love, because it has too many different meanings.” 

Zayn was silent a moment. “Do you know what love is to you?” 

Harry shook his head. “Nah. But I think that whatever it is, you have to be really lucky to find it.”

Zayn snorted. “A bit unfair, innit?” 

“Very unfair,” Harry agreed. Although, most things in life were unfair. If you were to write down all things in life that were unfair, it would have been an impossibly long novel. 

Zayn didn’t seem to have more to say on the subject. Sleep came not long after.

 

\--

 

There were some things in life that were plainly universal, such as the need for love, to feel a sense of purpose with your life; and the need to complain about the weather.

“It’s so hot,” Harry sighed, for the tenth time. 

“I am aware,” Zayn replied, for the tenth time. 

It was hot and humid, with a light smell of sweat in the air. It had just passed noon, when the sun was the strongest, when there was a knock on the door. Harry was lying flat on his stomach, his clothes stinging uncomfortably to his body when he heard Simon’s firm voice. 

“Everyone out.”

Harry looked up and almost got a heart attack. Because next to his father stood a very familiar man. 

“Mr Payne?” Harry asked, rubbing his eyes. Maybe the heat made him imagine things. 

“Liam?” Zayn said, next to him, sounding equally as surprised. 

Mr Payne, or Liam, if they were all on first name basis now, stood by the edge of the door, eyes wide and his hands fidgeting nervously with a hat in his hands. He wore a lot of clothes and Harry wondered how he hadn’t melted yet. 

“Um.” He looked down at the ground. His cheeks were flushed which either could be due to the heat or the fact that he was obviously uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, but he didn’t raise his head. “I would like a word with Zayn in private, please, if that’s alright,” he said, his voice low and uncertain. 

Harry only stared, stunned silent, until Simon stepped forward and kicked his foot. “Ow!”

“Of course,” Simon said, smiling sweetly. 

Harry quickly got to his feet. “Of course,” he repeated. 

Simon grabbed his wrist and dragged him forcefully out of the room. Once they were out, he slammed the door shut before pressing an ear against the door. 

Harry put both his hands on Simon’s shoulders and pulled him away. “Give them some privacy, for God’s sake!” 

“ _Privacy,_ ” he snorted, as if it was an outrageous concept. “It’s not as if they will have sex on the couch.” 

“You never know,” Harry said before pressing his right ear against the door. He heard the muffled sound of “I have been a complete, utter knob –“ before taking a step back. “God knows where this is leading. We should definitely give them some privacy.”

Simon made a face, but stayed put. 

He and Harry had been standing in the hallway; silent, not talking, for a while when the living room door suddenly burst open. 

Out came Liam, beaming brilliantly, his former uncertainty gone, exclaiming, “We’re engaged!” 

Harry’s eyes widened. _What._

“ _What?_ ” Simon demanded. 

Zayn stepped in behind Liam. “It’s true.”

He didn’t sound smug or even particularly excited, more like pleasantly settled. He took Liam’s hand in his and smiled calmly. 

Simon gasped for air. “This is the best news I’ve ever received!” 

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Even better than when you found out your missing son was still alive?” 

“Shut up, Harry,” Simon said absently, before walking forward and embraced Liam in a tight hug. “Welcome to the family.” He took a step back. “Two marriages. It’s a lot to take in.”

Liam turned to Harry, smirking. There was something knowing in his eyes. “Maybe you’re up next.”

“Ha!” Simon exclaimed, laughing. “Harry. _Married._ That’s hilarious.” He started wiping fake tears from his eyes. “What a funny guy.” He patted Zayn on the shoulder and winked. “He’s a keeper.”

By the look on Zayn’s face, he intended to keep him. 

By the look on Harry’s face, he intended to walk out of the room. 

 

\--

 

 _Would you like to come with us,_ they said. 

_It will be fun,_ they said. 

_You will be part of the conversation,_ they said. 

_You will not at all be left out and be forced to walk by yourself behind us as we hold hands in front of you,_ they did not say, but could just as well have, Harry thought bitterly as he trailed behind his brother and his brother’s fiancé. 

Zayn said something and Liam burst out laughing. He then leaned in and kissed Zayn. Which, _ew._ Exchanging human germs voluntarily. Why would anyone do that?” 

Harry was beyond happy things had worked out for them, truly – he was, but this was just ridiculous.

He kicked a stone beneath his foot, whilst having a sarcastic monologue in his own head, when suddenly Liam spoke. 

“Are you okay with that?” 

Harry’s head shot up. He was being addressed. Shocking. “Huh?” 

“We’re going for a walk by ourselves, are you okay with that?” Liam asked. 

Harry rolled his eyes. _No, as a matter of fact, as your brother and friend, I am not okay that you, a newly engaged couple, spend some quality private time together alone._ “Yes, I am okay with that, thank you for asking.”

“Great. See you later.” 

Zayn and Liam had walked about two meters, still holding hands, when they stopped, and Liam turned around saying, “I hear there’s a nice meadow if you go that way.” He gestured his head to the left. 

“Right,” Harry said. 

Liam gave a short smile, before they continued walking, leaving Harry alone. 

Harry stood still, following them with his eyes, absolutely speechless. He had never been this mistreated in his entire life. 

Okay, _yes,_ he had, but still. What were they playing at? 

With a sigh, Harry sat down on a fallen tree. 

And suddenly, just like that, Harry felt so unbelievably, heartbreakingly lonely. He couldn’t be happier for his brother, but what about him? Didn’t he deserve to be happy, too? Now, Harry didn’t believe that happiness was found by falling in love. He believed real happiness came from finding yourself, and accepting, and even loving, your flaws. By falling in love with yourself, one could say. But he also believed happiness could be found by finding yourself within someone else. By connecting yourself to another and staying there. Which is why it hurt to be disconnected from that part of you. There’s a part of you out there, which is not within yourself, and it hurt when it was gone. It made your stomach clench, compensating for what was not there. 

Harry rose from the tree and walked in the direction Liam had told him to, feeling tired and dejected, his head hung low. 

He stopped when he reached the meadow, which was hard to miss. It was circular shaped and inviting. Like a drawing, something taken out of a fantasy. 

It was dead silent, the only sound being the wind whistling in the trees. It was all very beautiful. But Harry craved something substantial, not just a pretty picture. 

It was then Harry heard footsteps approaching. Half expecting it to be Zayn and Liam, he was surprised by the lack of talking. When the footsteps stopped, Harry raised his head and the world stopped. 

In front of him, about ten meters away, stood Louis. The sun made his skin sparkle and his hair lighter than usual. He looked golden, like a treasure sent from heaven. 

Harry was speechless. 

Louis finally spoke. “Hi,” he said. 

Harry didn’t say anything. With small, careful steps, like a frightened animal, Louis walked closer, until he was within touching distance. 

It all felt surreal. Louis’ eyes matched the colour of the sky. _I think I dreamed you into life,_ Harry thought. 

“You alright?” Louis asked. 

“Perfect,” Harry replied. “You?” 

Louis smiled. It was small, it was faint, but it was there. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

Harry smiled as well. “So, Josh came back.”

Louis nodded, looking serious. “So I heard.”

“Which you heard, but had absolutely nothing to do with, am I right?”

Louis cracked a smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Harry smirked. “Of course you don’t.”

Louis only shrugged. 

Harry continued. “And Zayn’s happy now that Liam’s returned.”

“That’s nice to hear.”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly, Louis face fell and he looked troubled. Harry wanted to reach out and touch him. Wanted him to be happy. Wanted to be the reason he was happy. “Um, Harry, I,” he stuttered, and Harry had never heard him that nervous, “I need to talk to you.” His eyes were incredibly earnest, as if they possessed some universal truth. 

“Go on,” Harry prompted. 

“I,” Louis swallowed, “this is hard for me to say, because your answer will determine so much. Essentially, I just wanted you to know that what I said this April, my feeling and wishes, none of those have changed.” He took a deep breath. “I think you’re the loveliest and bravest person I’ve ever met, and I think about you all the time. And I’m not ashamed to say it, I’m only scared. I’m scared you will tell me the same thing you did this April - that my hope has been in vain. I’m scared you will tell me no, and I will never see you again. I’m scared because I know I will never love anyone like I love you. You’re everything to me.” Their eyes met and Louis’ were wet. “I look at you and I’m terrified. It terrifies me what I would do to hear you say you love me. It terrifies me because at the end of the day, there is nothing I can say nor do. It’s like standing at the edge of a cliff, not knowing whether or not anyone is there to catch you when you fall.”

Harry’s heart was beating 100 miles/hour. 

“So,” Louis continued, “if your feelings have not changed, you must tell me so at once. One word from you will silence me forever.”

There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. Harry was aching with the need to tug him in, hold him closer. Touch his skin, every part of his body. Feel his heartbeat against his own, become one person. Louis’ breathing was heavy, and Harry’s need to pull him in was fiercer than fire, shaper than knives. 

The air between them felt suffocating, too much, the only way to restore balance would be to feel Louis’ lips against his, settling the chaos. 

Harry raised his hand and gently stroked Louis’ arm, watching as goose bumps appeared. The sun was settling behind him, causing a yellow, shimmer light to appear behind his caramel brown hair. 

Harry took a step closer. Louis breath hitched. Harry’s hand moved up to underneath his chin, which he tilted up until their eyes met. He couldn’t wait any longer. 

“I’m going to kiss you, yeah?” 

Louis just nodded, breathlessly. 

Harry tilted his head down, until his lips found Louis’, and he separated them a little, breathing him in. He tasted like sunshine, warmth; like coming home. Harry put a hand on Louis’ back and pulled him in closer. Louis seemed to be doing the same, stood up on his tiptoes and put his hand behind Harrys neck, deepening the kiss. 

And while Harry wanted to continue doing this, continue forever, there were also things that needed to be said. He retrieved his mouth, gasping, and when he opened his eyes, Louis was already watching him. 

“I think it’s safe to say my feelings have changed.”

Louis’ smile was brilliant. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Harry was still holding him close. He never wanted to let go. It seemed as if Louis had other plans though as he took a step back, out of Harrys grip, which he wasn’t too pleased about. 

“I want to do this right, okay?” Louis said. 

Harry didn’t know what he was talking about. “Okay,” he said, nevertheless. He trusted him. 

Louis took a deep breath. Then he went down on one knee. 

“Fuck,” came out of Harry’s mouth. 

“Harry Styles,” Louis said, and Harry just nodded, because, _yes_ , that was his name, “you are by far the most obnoxious, cocky, self-obsessed person I’ve ever met.” Harry snorted. He had met Simon. “And I love absolutely everything about you and I wouldn’t change a thing, even if I could. I didn’t know anything before you, and I don’t want to fall into oblivion again. I want to spend every wake second with you, if you will let me. So,” Louis looked up at him through his lashes, his smile growing, “will you marry me?” 

There were hurricanes inside of Harry’s stomach. “Fuck,” he said, again. 

Louis smiled tentatively. The sun made his eyes squint. “Is that a yes?” 

Harry sat down on his knees on the grass in front of Louis and took the ring is his hands. That was a promise, that was a commitment, that was everything Harry had ever wanted. He put the ring on. He met Louis’ eyes. “That was a yes.”

 

\--

 

They had decided to meet the day after; same place, same time. Harry had to physically stop himself from screaming “I’m engaged!” during last night’s dinner. 

They had made out against a tree for god knows how long, Louis had a way of making Harry forget about the time, when they set out to do what they had decided to do the day earlier. 

“How do I look?” Louis asked. 

Harry huffed. Louis had just flattened his hair out so it looked relatively normal again, and not _I just participated in a heated make out session_ -ish. Harry liked his hair either way. “Good. Obviously.”

“But, like.” Louis stopped walking. Harry gave him an apprehensive look. “If you didn’t know me, and you saw me walking down the street, what impression would I give you? What would be your first thought?” 

Harry thought back some months, to the first time he’d seen Louis, granted not walking down the street, but at a large gathering, with all eyes on him. Harry couldn’t recall his exact thoughts, but they were probably somewhere along the lines of, ‘what a handsome bastard, I’d let him tie me down to a bed.’ “Um, why, what impression do you want to make?” 

Louis shrugged. “Something casual. Effortlessly handsome. So, if people saw me they’d think, ‘that gentleman is good-looking, but I bet he doesn’t know.’”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Wow. Well, that’s certainly not the first thought which popped into my head. If anything, it was, ‘that gentleman is handsome, and he is obnoxiously aware of it.’”

“Shut up,” Louis muttered, but he was grinning. 

Harry beamed, taking a step forward. “Why? Are you nervous?” 

“Shut up,” Louis muttered again.

Harry was delighted. “You are!” He poked him in the stomach. “This is hilarious. It’s just my family.”

“Just your family?” Louis repeated, exasperated. “I had to search the country for a lost brother, spend five days kicking balls into my best friend, just to get you to like me. What will I have to do to get your family’s approval?” 

“Probably take all your clothes off and dance hula hula inside a ring of fire. It’s our standard ‘welcome to the family’-ritual.”

Louis groaned. 

“I’m telling you. You don’t even want to know what Taylor had to do.”

Louis looked pained. 

“I’m joking!” Harry took a step forward. “Look, you had to do some stuff to win me over, but it was all worth it, yeah?”

Louis gave him a look. “Of course it was.”

“Well, then,” Harry said, “whatever you have to do to win my family over will be worth it as well.”

Louis still had a worried expression on his face. Harry took a step forward and kissed him on the mouth. “You will be fine. Relax.” He took a step back, smiling. “And it will all be worth it, yeah?” 

Louis nodded determinedly. “It will.” 

“Well, then,” Harry said, taking his hand in his, and dragged him towards his house, “let’s go.”

Together, they walked to the house and stepped in. There was chattering coming from some place in the house. When they went into the living room it all went dead quiet. Inside sat everyone. Simon, Anne, Niall, Josh, Taylor, Zayn and Liam. All their eyes were locked on Harry and Louis’ intertwined hands 

Louis cleared his throat. “Um. Hello,” he said. 

No one replied.

“Hi,” Taylor finally said. “How are you?” 

“Um. Good, thanks. How about yourself?” Louis replied. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” she said. 

Silence. 

The clock was ticking.

“What the fuck is going on,” Simon finally said. 

“First of all,” Louis said, “this is not what it looks like.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”

“Well, I suppose it is what it looks like. To be honest, I don’t really know what it looks like.”

“It looks weird,” Niall said. “That’s what it looks like.”

“We’re engaged,” Harry finally announced, happily, unable to keep quiet anymore. 

All eyes went big. 

“What the fuck,” Simon said.

Anne got up to her feet. “Harry, can I speak with you?” She took Harry’s hand in hers and pulled him away without waiting for an answer. 

“Sure,” Harry said, following his mother out of the room. They walked into Anne’s study, where she closed the door and Harry sat down on a chair. 

Anne took a seat in front of him and exhaled a heavy sigh. “Harry, what is this supposed to mean?” 

“Specify.”

Anne exhaled another sigh. “You know what I mean.”

“ _Oh._ You mean my sudden engagement to the man you all thought I hated?” 

Anne gave him a dead look. “Possibly.”

“Right. I actually don’t hate him as much as I might have made you guys believe.”

Anne raised an eyebrow. “So you decided to marry him? Tell me, Harry, is it the money? Be honest with me.”

“What?” Harry cried. “No! No, not at all.”

“Then why? It’s enough that I’ve had two sons showing up here, announcing their engagements. And now you. I thought more of you, Harry, I really did.”

“Oh,” Harry said. His stomach hurt a little. This wasn’t the reaction he wanted. “What’s that supposed to mean, though? Why are you so upset? You believe I am indifferent? That I do not care about him?” 

“Hard not to, since you have not uttered a word about him in months. I’m upset because I didn’t think you would fall into peer pressure.”

“It’s not like that.”

“You know I only want what’s best for you.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I know. But it is not like that.”

“Then what is it like? Is it some prank?” 

“No!” Harry exclaimed. “Jesus. No, we’re actually engaged.”

“Right. But then, why? Because I don’t want you to be with someone you don’t love and don’t love you. I care about you too much. I don’t ever want to see you unhappy.”

“You won’t,” Harry said. “If you want to see me happy you need to let me go through with this.”

“Harry –“

“No, I’m not finished,” Harry cut her off. “Mum, I want to be engaged to him. I appreciate your concern, I really do, but this is my life and I know what I’m doing. It’s my life, and you don’t need to understand, or even like it, but you need to respect it.”

Anne blinked. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I did.”

Harry swallowed. “I know, mum. But this isn’t a mistake. I want to do this. No one is forcing me. I wouldn’t fall into peer pressure. So, if you could stop projecting your insecurities on to me, then that would be great. You know I wouldn’t do anything against my will.”

Anne gave him a long look. “I know baby, I just don’t want to lose you to someone who won’t appreciate you. I could never live with myself.”

Smiling, Harry stood up and took a step forward. “Good thing you’ll never have to.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Trust me.”

Anne put her arm around him, and held on tightly. “Tell him I’ll kill him if he hurts you.”

Harry snorted. “Sure. Bet he’ll be really scared.”

“Tell him I know various types of martial arts.”

Harry nodded. “Will do.”

When they separated and walked back into the living room, Harry was greeted by the sight of Louis talking amiably with his family. It warmed his heart a bit. He took a seat next to him. 

Louis moved a little on the couch to make room. Their eyes met. “What did she say?” Louis whispered. 

“Nothing too bad,” Harry whispered back. He looked around to make sure no one listened. “She just threatened to kill you. Same old.”

Louis stiffened. “Uh.”

Harry took his hand in his. “Really, it’s fine. You’ll have won her over by the end of the night.”

By the end of the night, Harry wasn’t sure if he had won her over completely, but she had loosened up a lot. It didn’t matter though; they had all the time in the world. 

“So, what’s the plan now?” Anne asked, looking at Harry and Louis. 

They looked at each other. They hadn’t specifically discussed the future. 

“Well, I don’t know, really,” Louis said. 

“I was thinking,” Harry said, stroking his hand, “that we could go to your place in Doncaster? I’ve wanted to go back ever since I left.” 

Louis smiled. “Definitely. We could go tomorrow.”

Harry nodded. 

“I’ll miss you,” Anne said, before turning to Louis. “Take care of him, yeah?” 

“Think he can take care of himself, to be honest,” Louis said, chuckling. 

Anne smiled. “I guess.”

It was nice, really. Harry couldn’t think of any other word, having his whole family together all at one. Just really, really nice. But at the same time, he couldn’t wait to get away from there, and start a life of his own. 

Louis squeezed his hand. 

Harry couldn’t wait. 

\--

 

Harry had thought he had explored every room when he had visited some weeks ago, but it appeared as if he had missed the most important one; Louis’ bedroom. Or more specifically; his bed. His large, comfortable, _hopefully I will spend a lot of time here_ – bed. 

It had been a long day; a lot of good byes, a lot of traveling and a lot of kissing. Harry was now lying with his face on Louis’ stomach, only in his boxers, content and relaxed. They had taken a bath earlier and were now nice and clean. 

“Can I ask you something?” Louis said, breaking the silence, his hand combing through Harry’s hair. 

“Of course,” Harry replied, practically purring. 

“What made you dislike me so much?” 

“Oh,” Harry said, caught off guard. 

“I don’t want to come across as rude or anything, I’m just genuinely interested. I want you to tell me the truth. Because I want to do better.”

“Well,” Harry said, and sat up straighter, trying to think of a good answer. “I think it was your attitude, you know. You were so arrogant. Like, just because you were born privileged and above everyone else doesn’t mean you get to treat people like shit. Like, I get that you’ve had problems as well, that your life hasn’t been perfect either, but none of those problems had anything to do with the fact that you’re really, really rich.”

Louis nodded, his lips pressed together tightly. 

“It wasn’t so much that you insulted me, it was more the fact that you gave yourself the permission to say it without giving a second thought as to who would hear or how said person would react. And it wasn’t just me, but also Taylor, my dad, and everyone at the assembly where we first met, basically. I understand why you’d be rude to Nick, but you had no reason to be disrespectful towards, let’s say, Taylor. And, I mean, just because something is understandable, doesn’t mean it’s acceptable.”

Louis still didn’t say anything. 

“Basically, I think it was the whole “better than you.”-attitude. I would never be with someone who didn’t fully respect me and treated me as an equal.”

Louis’ head shot up. “I do respect you. And I certainly hope I treat you like an equal.”

“Yeah, you do,” Harry agreed. “That’s my point. I wouldn’t be with you otherwise. Which is why I trust you will respect my honesty and work on becoming a better person instead of getting angry and defensive.”

Louis sighed heavily. “I am angry. But not with you, only with myself.”

Harry nodded. 

“You make me want to be a better person,” Louis continued. 

“I can tell,” Harry said. “It’s just a shame you had to fall in love with someone to realise that.”

Louis bit his lip, looking remorseful. “I want to be the best person in the world for you.”

“Because you love me, yeah?” 

Louis nodded. “Because I love you, yes.”

Harry smiled, and laid down again, his head against a pillow. “I think that’s enough for now.”

Louis shifted so he was now on top of him, which Harry was all aboard with. He then dived down and kissed Harry’s neck. “I want to make you feel so cherished.”

“Yeah?” Harry chuckled. 

“Absolutely,” Louis said, and started tracing light kisses across Harry’s body. “You know how you can’t walk in a straight line without falling?” 

“… Yeah?” 

Louis kissed his cheek. “I love that about you.”

Harry bit his lip, supressing the urge to giggle. 

“You know how you can knit for five hours straight?”

“Mh-hm?” 

“I think that’s amazing.”

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was blushing.

“You know how you can’t eat soup without burping at least ten times?” 

“Shut up.”

Louis grinned. “I think that’s oddly charming.”

“I feel so cherished,” Harry muttered, pouting. 

Louis laughed into Harry’s neck. “You are, though.” His breath was hot against Harry’s body, and his words barely audible. He was so close Harry was positive he could feel his heartbeat. “I love everything about you.”

Harry’s stomach was in a riot of butterflies. “I love you, too.” He still didn’t know what that meant. But if it was anything close to _you’re the last thought before I fall asleep, your voice is my favourite sound_ or _I can’t picture myself with anyone but you,_ it should be about right. 

Louis’ face lit up, slowly making him the human instalment of the sun. It was the first time Harry had said it. “Really? Because I’ll have you know that I have never, ever loved –“

“Okay, babe,” Harry said and put a hand against Louis’ mouth, silencing him. Enough was enough, honestly. “Look. I appreciate everything coming out of your mouth, I really do. But now is not the time to be romantic.” Harry shot a meaningful look down at his rock hard cock lying between them, and then up at Louis. They had taken a bath together, been in bed together for almost one hour now, and all they’d done was cuddle and talk. An abomination, really. “Now is the time to pull my pants down, fuck me hard against the mattress and make me forget about everything else.”

Louis’ eyes widened. “Your wish is my command.”

Harry separated his legs further and let out a huff of air. Finally. His body was on fire. “Let’s do this.”

Louis stared down at his body, eyes wide. “Absolutely.”

He started making his way down, as Harry started fidgeting. Could he hurry up already.

“Could you hurry up already,” Harry whined. “I’ve waited long enough.”

Louis stopped and raised an eyebrow. “I’ve waited just as long.”

“Not really. I’ve wanted this since the first time I saw you. However, I believe your first words regarding me was that I wasn’t handsome enough to tempt you.”

Louis snorted. “Well, I do talk out of my ass sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t agree.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Louis said, stroking his sides. “However, speaking of asses,” he looked up through his lashes, as he grinned and winked, “turn over.”

Swallowing, Harry turned over so he was lying flat on his stomach. He wasn’t even sure what was happening – only that he liked it. 

He felt Louis separating his butt cheeks, and started licking his rim. Harry buried his head in a pillow to keep from screaming. 

After what was definitely a thorough expedition of Harry’s ass, he was a whimpering mess. He felt Louis smacking his leg gently, telling him, “Roll over,” again. 

Doing as he was told, he found himself on his back, and with Louis separating his legs and was finally where Harry wanted him the most; between his legs, causing Harry to let out a short whine. And that was before he put his hand around the base of his cock and started licking in slow, painful motions and Harry clenched the bed sheet. 

Harry’s breath was rapid when he whined, “Damn it, Louis,” not sure what he was trying to convey. 

To Harry’s surprise and disappointment, Louis actually stopped doing what he was doing and left the bed. 

Frowning, Harry watched him search through one of his drawers until he found something, and he returned to the bed, straddling him.

“Are you ready, babe?” Louis asked. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dishevelled, eyes glassy – and he had never looked more beautiful. 

But maybe that was just Harry’s dick talking. 

“Yes,” he said, his voice strangled. 

Louis grinned. He opened the jar of unidentified content, and a sweet smell filled the room. 

“What’s that?” Harry asked. 

“Coconut oil,” Louis replied. “Eleanor told me it was great for intimate purposes, but I haven’t tried it yet. Ready to put it to the test?” 

Harry nodded eagerly. 

Without further ado, Louis slicked one finger and put it in him, and Harry let out a sharp cry. 

“You alright?” 

Harry fidgeted a bit. “Yeah. Keep going.”

Louis kept going. Harry bit his lower lip to keep from crying out. Louis, as always, was thorough with what he did, and Harry couldn’t even think; his whole brain just white noise. 

When Louis deemed himself finished, he extracted his fingers. 

“Think you’re ready to go?” He asked. 

“I told you,” Harry gasped. “I’ve been ready since I first met you.”

Smiling, Louis put a hand on himself and started stroking. Harry watched intensely. If anyone were to look in through the window, he probably would have looked slightly creepy; what with how he couldn’t even remove his gaze for one second. However, if that scenario actually took place, the main concern wouldn’t be why Harry was staring - but why anyone was watching them having sex. 

“Alright,” Louis gasped and angled Harry’s hips so they were aligned with his cock. Harry held his breath. Softly, carefully, Louis pushed himself in and Harry experienced the best kind of dizzy and light-headedness. Like taking a dip in the ocean after being out on the beach all day.

“Okay?” Louis asked. 

Like eating strawberries with a glass of cold milk. “So okay.”

“Oh my god,” Louis said, breathlessly. 

Harry nodded blankly. “Could you, um, move?” 

“As you wish,” Louis said, as he slowly, but surely, pressed his way in further. 

“Yes, yes,” Harry panted. 

“You doing alright, sweetheart?” 

“Less talking, more moving,” Harry replied, which he hoped counted as _yes, fantastic, never better, oh my god right there, perfect, I love you, what did you even ask?_

Louis kept up his speed and eventually found Harry’s prostate which only made it more fantastic. When Harry could feel his orgasm growing closer, he was quickly crying out, “Lou, Louis, I’m gonna –“

As a reply, Louis started stroking his sensitive cock, and it was too much, way too much, and soon he came with Louis pressed hard against him. 

“Oh, shit,” Louis said, as he also climaxed. 

They stayed pressed together, until Louis pulled himself out, and Harry winced at the loss. 

Louis laid himself next to Harry, simply breathing. When he finally spoke, moments later, he was grinning mischievously. “That was even better than how I’d imagined it.”

Harry smirked, turning over and brushed away a stray of hair from Louis’ forehead. “You’ve thought about it a lot?” 

“Constantly.”

Harry wiped sweat off his forehead. “Yeah, same here.”

“You know when we were at Mrs Walter’s? All I could think about was getting naked with you and I was like, ‘Oh boy, if anyone would hear my thoughts right now.’”

Harry laughed. “I can relate to that. A lot.” 

Louis’ smile melted into something gentler. “I barely even knew you. I just knew I felt everything for you.”

Smiling, warm all the way through, Harry turned to he was face to face with Louis and seized his body up. “You know, there are a shortage of perfect dicks in this world. I’m glad yours came to good use.”

Louis snickered. “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Harry poked him in the stomach. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Fine. I like it when you’re mean to me anyway.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. 

“Or, well, to some extent.”

Harry smiled, and put his head on Louis’ shoulder. “Can’t believe we have this whole house for ourselves.” Harry’s eyes shot up. “Do you know what we should do?” 

Louis shook his head. 

“Adopt a bunch of kids.”

Louis’ eyes widened. 

Harry sat up straighter. He was absolutely way ahead of things; he knew that, but he couldn’t care right now. “I’m serious. Look, we have more room than we have use for. And I bet there are tons of kids out there without a place to live. And I love kids.” Harry’s heart was pounding really fast, he was so excited. 

Louis was silent, until, “I love kids, too.”

Harry beamed. It wasn’t a promise, but they had time and Harry had hope and he had love. He curled closed and spooned Louis from behind. “So glad I met you.”

The sky was dark and Louis’ voice was the light. “I love you.”

Harry closed his eyes, content and happy. The day was ending, but there would be another one tomorrow, and another after that, and he couldn’t wait. “I love you, too.”

 

\--

_Seven years later_

 

“Mr Tomlinson?”

Harry’s head immediately shot up. “Yes?” 

“Oh, uh.” Eleanor blinked, standing by the edge of the door. She had arrived about one hour ago, but had immediately started playing with the kids outside, so Harry hadn’t seen much of her. “Not you. The, um, other one.”

“Right,” Harry said, and rose from his seat. “One second.”

He walked into the large living room where he knew he’d find his husband. True enough, on the floor sat Louis, playing with their youngest daughter Jane. At the sight of him, both their faces lit up. 

“Look!” Louis said. “It’s daddy!” 

Jane ran towards Harry, and Harry immediately picked her up. “Hello,” he cooed. He then turned to Louis. “El is looking for you.” 

“Did he say what she wanted?” Louis asked, as he stood up. 

Harry shook his head and followed Louis out with Jane in his arms. 

“Hi, El,” Louis said. 

She rose from the seat she was sitting on, embracing him in a hug. “You know, it’s confusing now that you have the same last name.” 

Eleanor had stayed for a whole month last year, and Harry had gotten a bit fond of her. She knew how to make perfect pancakes. Also, her girlfriend Danielle was loads of fun.

“I was just going to tell you I’m leaving to go visit Zayn and Liam tomorrow, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with.” 

“Oh,” Louis said, and his gaze flickered between Eleanor and Harry. “I’d love to, but my friend Mr Irwin is coming in a couple of days, so I’m not really in any position to leave at the moment.”

“Right,” Eleanor said. “I just figured I’d ask.”

“I appreciate that.”

Harry looked between Louis and Eleanor. “Could I come, maybe?” He met Louis’s eyes. “I haven’t seen Zayn in ages. You could look after the kids, yeah?” Jane hugged him tighter. “Won’t be gone for long, baby,” Harry said, and kissed her cheek. 

“Yeah, I’ll manage,” Louis said. 

Harry looked at Eleanor, who shrugged. “Sure.”

Harry beamed. It was decided. 

“Besides,” Louis said, addressing Eleanor, “you know we share last name, yeah? Tomlinson-Styles?” 

Eleanor made a face. “That’s such a mouthful, though.”

“I know,” Harry agreed. “It’s just Mr Tomlinson here who’s insisting on it.”

Louis groaned. “Don’t call me that. You know it makes me feel weird.”

Harry chuckled, and turned to Eleanor. “So. Will you be making pancakes tonight?”

 

\--

 

They left the next day. 

Louis took Harry apart the night before, the way only he could, making sure he wouldn’t forget about him while he was away. As if he could ever. 

Harry came while whimpering _Mr Tomlinson_ into the crook of his husband’s neck. Louis held him close and whispered how much he loved him. Harry told him he was grateful for his perfectly sized cock. It was the perfect good bye. 

 

\--

 

_Dear Louis,_

_I will to start off with the obvious; I miss you. I love you. I hope you are well. I hope the kids are not tiring you out too much. (If you were to find a spider in your favourite cereal then I had nothing to do with it, have no idea what you are talking about – and someone should really teach our kids some manners!)_

_I spoke to Zayn and Liam’s neighbour today and she told me she has started growing tomatoes in her garden and I think we should start doing that as well. And then I spoke with Zayn and Liam, and they have started doing something I think we should start doing as well. I will not specify what that is, should one of the kids find this letter. And also because I want to surprise you. Hint: it involves sugar, heat, fluids and has nothing to do with baking._

_As for Zayn and Liam, they are doing really well. It makes me really happy to see them. Also, Liam told me that when you were little, you used to pretend you were superheroes and run around your area, “saving the day”. Something tells me you did more harm than good. Story of your life maybe?_

_No, I did not mean that. I think you have done more good than harm. Our kitchen is another matter, though._

_Then, life is supposed to be an adventure and everything is exciting with you._

_I am thankful for a lot of things in life; my hair, my good health, my family’s good health. But most of all, I am thankful for you. I do not know where I would be without you, and I am glad I never have to find out._

_As always, the obvious; I miss you. I love you. I wish you were here._

_Stay safe for me. Always in my heart,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! ♡♡
> 
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> Take care xx


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